iWent Through the Glass
by Fictions of Legends
Summary: Spencer purchases an old-fashioned mirror. What will happen when Sam discovers that the mirror is more than it seems? Seddie.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: Spencer purchases an old-fashioned mirror. What will happen when Sam discovers that the mirror is more than it seems?

Disclaimer: Maybe in some other world, I'd rich, and famous, and Dan Schneider, and I own iCarly. But here, I do not. D=

iWent Through the Glass: Chapter 1

"And here—" Carly says as she and I head over to a corner of the room, Freddie following us with his camera. "—You'll see the new mirror that my brother Spencer got!"

The mirror isn't actually new—it's really old, in fact. Spencer picked it up from an antique shop. It's resting on clawed legs, and its frame is gold that appears to be slightly tarnished. According to Freddork, gold takes a _long_ time to rust at all, so you can imagine just how old this thing is. Waving my arms in a mystical fashion, I speak. "We call this 'The Mirror of Truth'!"

"'Cause our ancient mirror here is around to show you the truth." Carly casts a mysterious look at the camera. "And if you view it through your computer screen—" Freddie raises his camcorder to give the folks at home a look in the mirror. "—You can see that you are…." She looks at me to complete the sentence.

Smiling falsely, I exclaim, "A scrawny dork with a camera!"

Freddie tilts his head away from behind the camera to give me a disapproving glare.

I beam at him.

"Well, I guess you _do_ see our technical producer, Freddie," Carly says slowly. "But what I was going for is that you see the _technical producer_—not necessarily Freddie! In other words, you—"

"—Our fans—" I do a little hokey-pokey spin in front of the camera.

"—Are the true backbone of iCarly!" Carly beams.

"It's all your support that keeps us up and running!" Freddie calls happily from behind the camera.

"And it's _your_ voice that ticks the hell out of me," I glare at Freddie. "So shush."

Freddie rolls his eyes but Carly laughs, knowing my insults are all in good fun. "Freddie _is_ right! Without you, we'd be nothing."

I pull a long face. "Just a speck on the web."

Carly pulls an even longer one. "Just dust in the interwind!"

Our expressions go frightened. "Just a website with only dot-net level importance."

We look at each other slowly, both terrified. Then we snap back to the camera, clinging to each other and screaming in terror.

We separate, and I'm grinning. "So, to celebrate your awesomeness—"

"—We now present—" says Carly.

"—The newest attraction on iCarly…"

"The meatball catapult!" we shout together as Spencer wheels out the table containing three catapults and a box of meatballs.

"Watch as we fling spherical meats at our friend Gibby!" Carly calls, brimming with happiness.

Gibby enters the shot, shirt-free, as he poses and flexes for the camera.

Spencer squeals with joy from behind the table. "I'm so excited!"

We all took our stances behind the catapults and loaded meatballs onto them.

"Everyone ready?" Freddie asked.

"Ready, Freddie," Carly called cheerily.

"Fingers ready on the triggers?"

"Yep!" yelled Spencer energetically.

"Meatballs set to—?"

Rolling my eyes, I shouted. "Just count down, Benson!"

"Alright," he glared back. "Five, four, three, two—meat-a-balls!" he called in a horribly fake Italian accent.

All at once we pressed our triggers. As the first meatball just barely missed Gibby, we discovered they were much tougher than we wanted them to be—for instance, they made a hole in the ground where they hit.

Gibby ran in fear, as I was the only one who continued the meatball assault. Finally, one of them hit him in the head and he fell to the floor unconscious.

I scoffed. "Alright, shirtless nerd, 500 points." And then I reached down, grabbed the meatball that had pegged Gibby and bit into it.

Freddie's mouth hung agape in outrage. Placing the camera down on his "tech cart" and switching the angle over to the b-cam, he jumped into the scene and pulled the plug that kept the meatball catapult functioning.

"Hey, Freddweeb," I began with an eyebrow cocked in suspicion, my mouth pulling up on one side into a half-sneer as my hands landed on my hips. "What's the big deal?"

"The _big_ _deal_," he says, spinning to face me. "Is you knocked Gibby _unconscious_! How are we gonna explain this?"

Carly stared back and forth between us nervously. She saw that this was escalating into a place where it shouldn't go—a very bad place. Unfortunately, Freward didn't share my best friend's precognition.

"Relax, Benson," I chided. "We don't have to explain anything."

"Oh, really?" he asked, nodding in disbelief and left me no time to answer. "Then what are we gonna do, huh?"

I hate being cut off. And that quick transition to another question when I couldn't even answer his first—even if that answer was just a simple, "Yeah, really,"—definitely counted as me being cut off. Glaring, I spoke in a voice coated with venom. "Simple—we get rid of all the complainers." And then I promptly hit Freddie over the head with the boulder-like meatball.

The nerd fell to the ground and I nudged him with my foot.

Carly's eyes were wide as saucers and her voice was shaky when she spoke to the camera I had forgotten was still on. "Uhhh, and that's it for tonight! We'll see you next week!" Quickly running behind the camera, she shut down the live feed. "Sam, what did you do?!"

Shrugging, I answered nonchalantly. "I knocked him out."

"But why?" asked Carly in a hysterical, panicked voice. "That's not a good thing to do! You should know that!"

I wanted to tell her that I _did_ know and that I just didn't care. But I didn't. Instead I just asked, "Why didn't you stop me, then?"

"I'm not your mother!" she answered back.

I scoffed. "Thank ham for that."

"Spencer," Carly called. "You're the oldest person here—why didn't _you_ say something; anything?"

There was a stretched silence. I turned towards Carly's brother and he was just now lowering his head, switching his gaze to us from where it had been on the ceiling. "I'm sorry, what?" he asked. "I was distracted." Then he pointed upwards enthusiastically. "There is a spot up there that looks _exactly_ like Randy Newman!"

Another long pause. Spencer seemed to have a talent for inducing long, confusion-filled silences.

Carly sighed. "Come on, Spencer. Let's go carry Freddie's body across the hall." Then she murmured, "Can't wait to hear the fit Mrs. Benson pulls when she sees him."

I waved a hand. "Oh please. She's known us long enough. Trust me, you won't need to explain a thing," I said with genuine confidence.

"Well if she yells at me, I'm blaming you!" Carly shouted back with a frightened/very displeased look on her face.

I just shrugged. "Kay." My eyes fell to the floor. I didn't really feel bad about what I did, but I didn't want to get Carly in trouble. My gaze drifted to Gibby. "I'll bring Gibby downstairs in a second, alright?"

Carly and Spencer were already halfway down the stairs carrying Freddie when Carly yelled back a very annoyed sounding, "Whatever."

I rubbed my hands together in preparation of dragging Gibby into the elevator when suddenly I could've sworn I heard my name being called. It was being said in a whisper, and the voice was so low that it was impossible to make out whether it was a guy or girl addressing me. I was sure I had heard it though—like the sound of wind rushing through an empty playground.

For some reason my eyes lifted to the mirror. It had a fog over its face, like a thick layer of dust, as if it had not been touched in years.

My eyebrows knit together in perplexity and then I rubbed my eyes, sure that I had to have been just seeing things. I must've been right, because when I lowered my hands, the fog was gone.

The room had grown uncomfortably colder, however, so I grabbed Gibby as hurriedly as I could and called for the elevator. As soon as its door closed with me inside of it, I swallowed the lump that had grown in my throat.

Something had, apparently spooked me, but I didn't know what it was.

I was going to find out, though. Not many things freak me out, so if something _does_, it should_ not_ be taken lightly.

As I exited the elevator on the first floor, my gaze flitted to the hanging mirror that rested there.

The lump reformed in my throat and the cold feeling returned to the room as I was overcome with irrational fear. In one smooth movement, I managed to tape my hoodie to the wall, over the tiny mirror.

--

**AN: =O You voted, and here's the first chapter for iWent Through the Glass! I hope it was enjoyable. I have to tell you, that while I actually laughed along with my writing (something I do not often do—but my favorite part was with the spot on the ceiling that looked like Randy Newman) I actually creeped myself near the end. It was **_**very**_** late when I wrote that bit and I had the song "Dreaming" from the Coraline soundtrack (AKA the Other Mother's theme) running through my head at the same time. –Shudder- Anyway, can't wait to see your feedback, guys! =) Until next time—**

**-Fictions**


	2. Chapter 2

Summary: Spencer purchases an old-fashioned mirror. What will happen when Sam discovers that the mirror is more than it seems?

Disclaimer: Omigawd, guess what?! I still don't own iCarly! –grumblegrumbleDanSchneidergrumble-

iWent Through the Glass: Chapter 2

Heh. Mrs. Benson apparently thought Freddie hurt his noggin way more than I knew was true. His head was covered in bandages, leaving only his glaring eyes revealed to me.

If the whole situation wasn't so funny, I might've felt bad. But the fact that every time I said something slightly insulting or in poor humor, Freddie's only option was to utter a muffled moan or groan was way too amusing.

Spencer had made funfetti cake for us, but Freddie was left without a piece because of his…aherm, "headgear."

After Carly had rushed off to the bathroom, I was left alone with Freddie on the Shay's living room couch. I looked to him. "So, you can't eat anything at all right now?"

He began mumbling, probably trying to say a lot more than he thought I could understand through the bandages. The truth is, I understand muffle-speak quite fluently, but it didn't feel like the time to bring that up. Instead, Freddie gave up and huffed, finally deciding to just shake his head.

"That stinks," I said as my face contorted into a frown. I really was sorry at that point, but I'd never apologize. I already had this year and once was enough per 12 months, I decided. So, I figured I'd make the best of the situation. "Guess that means you can't enjoy this_ delicious_—" I scooped up some funfetti cake on my fork. "—Limited-time-offer—" I waved the fork in the air, and his eyes followed it. "—_Green_ funfetti cake." The bit of cake hovered in front of his face, his brown eyes crossing to stare at it. The boy was probably salivating under the bandages. "Well, too bad, Mummy Boy!" I shouted and shoved the fork into my mouth.

Freddie growled beneath the bondage, and I laughed loudly, my mouth full of green and multi-colored goodness.

As quick as he could, Freddie tore off the bandages from his face. "That is it, Puckett!" he shouted, and then grabbed the plate of cake from my hands, chomping on it fork-lessly.

"Hey, Fredward, better get those bandages back on," I said seriously. "Wouldn't want mommy to come in here and pitch a spaz, would you?"

He lifted his head, mouth full of cake and glared at me. Then, in one swift movement, I ended up with the plateful of cake on my face.

Freddie's laughter sounded from behind my new mask of green cake. Smoothly, I stood from the couch and marched to where the rest of our dessert lay. "_Really_?" I asked, bringing Freddie out of his fit as I scooped up a lump of cake from the tray it rested on. "Did you _really_ wanna do that?"

Fear takes over his features and I grin, aiming and pulling my hand back in preparation of letting the food go flying. Fredward does what's expected of him and turns around to bolt for the door.

As if on command, Mrs. Benson opens the door at that second. "Door was unlocked, I was just checking to see—" her eyes widened in rage. "Freddie!" she shouted in a shrill and angry tone.

Freddie was backing up now, closer to me again as I went to stand beside him.

His mom was fuming with fury. "Young man, you get those bandages _back_ on your head and get home for a tick bath _this instant_!"

If it was possible, the nub's face altered even further with horror and embarrassment. "But mom--!" he shouted before being cut off, as was expected.

"Don't you 'but mom' me, mister!" Mrs. Benson looked around before shuddering. "You've made me so mad that I've forgotten what I even came here for! Come home _now_ Freddie," she said with a huff and then rushed back out the door.

Freddie turned to probably glare at me, but before he could, I slammed the cake I still had waiting in my hand into his face.

I smirked. "Gotta say, that's a much better look for you, Freddo." Hopping up onto one of the stools by the counter, I continued. "You should hide your face more often."

Growling in frustration, the dork spun on his heel and stomped out the door.

I merely smiled. My job for the day was complete.

When Carly came out of the bathroom (I'm assuming she must've fallen in the toilet or something) she quickly questioned me about the mess in her living room.

Shamelessly, I told her the whole story, practically word-for-word.

"Sam!" Carly shouted. "Can't you just be nice to Freddie for once?"

"I was nice!" I protested. "I warned him about his mom coming in, didn't I?"

Carly groaned. "Yeah, but—" Unable to complete her sentence, she sighed. "There are much better ways to get a guy to like you, you know."

My face flushed red with…shock. And my eyes went completely wide. "I don't know what you're talkin' about, Carls."

She rolled her eyes. "Ooof course you don't." Bending down, she began to clean up the green cake from the floor where it had apparently fallen from both of our faces.

I shrugged. Carly was completely off. I didn't like Freddie, and I wasn't trying to get him to like me either. I just tease him all the time because…it's something that comes natural to me. And if I _don't_ tease him, I go into this withdrawal. It's like he's a drug or something. …I mean it's like _teasing him's_ a drug or something. Not—uch, forget it.

"I'm gonna go wash up," I said as I jumped from the stool. "I'll probably go watch some TV later. Meet me up there?"

Carly stood and pursed her lips. "I've kinda got some homework to work on, but I'll be right up after that."

"Kay, see ya then." And then I began heading for the stairs.

"You staying over?" Carly asked from the floor in front of the couch, paper towel and garbage bag in hand.

I laughed slightly. "You have to ask?"

She shared my laughter. "Okay, then. Hopefully I'll be up soon."

I took the stairs two at a time as I headed for the second floor bathroom. As I climbed I thought about just how amazing the house was. Not only was it a three-story apartment—which is awesome—but it was also full of incredible memories; memories I believe couldn't have possibly taken place anywhere else. Bleh, I'm always thinking too much.

I proceeded upstairs to wash my face and, checking my watch, I saw it was time for Legend Crackers—a show I was secretly obsessed with. So, I ran to the studio without even checking my face to make sure it was clean. The worst thing that would happen was that I would be stained green, making me look like the Wicked Witch of the West. And let's face it, that'd be awesome, so I wasn't complaining.

Groaning at the realization that there was no way Carly would be up here in the half-an -hour that Legend Crackers was on, I took to pacing the room, with the TV rumbling in the background. There was an episode I had already seen on the screen, where the group of scientists tried to disprove the fact that elephants are really afraid of mice. Reruns are cool, I guess, but I really only like watching them with friends. Er, well, Carly solely, because she was the only one to know about my obsession.

Pacing the room, I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror out of the corner of my eye. Groaning, I walked up to it; I really should've checked myself out before I left the bathroom. Not that I had to look pretty for anyone or anything. I rubbed at the green that was left over on my face and then turned my attention to my hair.

It was a mess. And as I brought my hands up to my head, to fix it, my reflection twinkled.

And then, I wasn't looking at me anymore. Well, no, I was, but my reflection wasn't wearing the same clothes—instead, it wore a Medieval dress. Its lips were cherry red and its hair was put up in a messy bun. It wasn't in the iCarly studio either. Instead, it seemed to be in some sort of stone area—a castle, maybe?

My not-quite-reflection shared my perplexed look, and I moved in a variety of abstract ways to test that I was still looking at myself in the mirror and not another person. It moved along with me.

Biting my lip, I paused, and then reached my hand to the mirror. My fingers went through the face, but it wasn't glass that I hit. It was goo—slimy, reflective, cold goo.

After moving my hand through the substance for a little while, I felt a vice on my wrist. And suddenly, I was yanked through the mirror. The force brought me crashing to my Medieval dress-covered knees, to the stone floor of the castle.

--

**AN: End of chapter 2! Alright, so the last bit is very much like the summary. In fact it's exactly the same except for a couple of changed or added words—hope you guys don't mind, it just kind of fit there. Anyway, I hope you liked this! Gotta say my favorite part of this chapter was the Seddie banter, and then of course, Sam's reflections on her feelings. Thank you all for your support and reviews!**

**-Fictions**


	3. Chapter 3

Summary: Spencer purchases an old-fashioned mirror. What will happen when Sam discovers that the mirror is more than it seems?

Disclaimer: Hey! You guys know what's awesome?! Not me! I don't own iCarly—that right goes to Dan Schneider.

iWent Through the Glass: Chapter 3

I groaned. I was _not_ expecting that drop. And falling on that stone floor? Let me tell you, not pleasant.

"Lady Samantha?" came a call from behind the heavy wooden door to the bedroom I'd landed in. "Are you alright? It sounded as if something fell."

My eyebrows knit together. That voice sounded exactly like Freddie's. But it couldn't have been—Freddie was back in the iCarly Studio; back in the room on the other side of the mirror.

Suddenly, the door opened and I saw that I had heard right. Freddie walked in, wearing what looked to be medieval royal garb. He laughed. "Oh so _you_ fell, then," he beamed, reaching a hand out to me. "I was sure you weren't this clumsy the last time we met."

In my stupor of confusion, I let him help me up. I realized now that my dress was frosted blue and made of soft velvet, its bindings were silver, and underneath the blue rested a satin white under-gown. He sat us both on the bed in the center of the room. "Where _are _we?" I asked him slowly.

"You're home," he answered as if it were obvious, keeping his smile about him.

I shook my head, cocking an eyebrow at him. "I don't live in a castle."

Freddie chuckled. "Well, not yet, at least."

My eyebrows lowered in perplexity. What the heck was that supposed to mean? I pursed my lips. I didn't like being confused.

Freddie tilts his head, and I realize he's still holding my hand.

Even though it felt nice being there, there was something odd about this place; something cold, and I slowly pulled my hand from his grasp.

Now, he began to look concerned. "Lady Samantha, are you okay?"

My confused gaze switched up to a glare. "Freddie, why do you keep calling me that? My name is _Sam_, and no one calls me Samantha. Especially not _Lady_ Samantha."

Freddie chuckles. "I hadn't realized we were being so informal. Last time you insisted I call you Lady Samantha and—"

I rolled my eyes. "What did I call you—Prince Fredward?"

"Yes, precisely," he says, nodding.

This shocks me into silence. I have no idea what's going on, or where I've landed. What _was_ this place?

"But," Freddie shrugs. "If you'd like to be called Sam, and wish to call me Freddie," he takes my hand again, rubbing his finger along the back of my palm, and grins, his mouth pulling up at one side. "That's perfectly fine."

I pull my hand from his again, blushing a little this time and avert my gaze from his.

His face falls, too, I see from the corner of my eye, and it goes blank—probably with the sting of rejection.

I'm not sure why, but my mouth pulls down into a frown. I didn't mean to make Freddie feel bad, but I just wasn't sure what was going on. I felt that I had to be alert for some reason, and allowing mysterious "Prince Fredward" to hold my hand didn't really count for being alert.

Awkwardly, he cleared his throat and shifted, finally standing. Lightly, he patted my shoulder. "Well, Sam," he began, pronouncing my name as if it were fresh and new on his tongue. "Lunch will be served in the main dining hall soon. Perhaps you'd like to wash up before then?"

I glared at him, immediately shooting back into my old self. "Hey, just what exactly are you trying to say here, lord puffy pants?"

Freddie goes pale and looks taken aback, as if I had slapped him. "N-No," he stutters. "I didn't mean to say that you _had_ to." He's shaking his head vigorously. "I only meant that if you wanted to, you could." Quickly, he tacks on, "For leisurely purposes."

I watch as he walks slowly to a heavy curtain that I was pretty sure hadn't been there before. Smoothly, he brushes the curtain away to reveal a porcelain-tiled bath, with a metal showerhead and all.

He grins, probably hoping that my anger from before was merely a flash and had already passed. "I remember you saying something about preferring showers over baths?" he asks almost rhetorically. "So I had this installed for you."

It was true that I preferred showers to baths ever since Carly had told me about how a bath was like swimming in your own dirt. But how could this Freddie know that? And wait a minute; didn't showers come way later in history? Cocking an eyebrow at him I began to ask, "How did you--?" But I was quickly cut off.

Freddie groaned, his head rising heavenward. "I'll be right there, mother!" he shouted. Then he smiled back at me and shook his head. "I swear, you can't make that woman wait for a second."

Before I even realized it, he walked toward me and, tilting my chin upward with his thumb and forefinger, he pressed a gentle kiss on my lips.

I was too shocked to respond when he pulled away. "I'll see you at lunch—" he whispered as his lips tugged up into a half-smile, his eyes captivating my gaze, as he kept grasp of my chin. "—_Sam_." He said my name to complete his sentence, his voice deep and almost lulling.

When I regained my senses, he was out the door, and he shut it gingerly behind him. And with Freddie went my only possible chance to get an answer to that question that weighed on my mind.

Sighing, I got into the shower and washed. I submerged myself deep in thought as the water cascaded over my head and through my hair, almost thoroughly blocking out all other sounds in the room. I wondered where exactly I was; what time period I was in. _Was_ I even in a time period at _all_? For some reason, this place felt different—apart—as if it existed _outside_ of history; outside of reality; outside of time itself.

There was also that question from before nagging at the back of my mind, and slowly, a new pondering entered into the mix—what was I even doing here? Why did I stay?

I knew the surface answer to that one, though—I was curious. Yes, I _know_ curiosity killed the cat, but Sam Puckett is no cat.

The question seemed to run deeper than that, though, as if it meant something more. Almost like the response, "I was curious," was far too simple to actually answer the question.

But then my eyes snapped open, and I was pulled out of my trance because I distinctly heard the heavy wooden door to the bedroom open and shut. I peered out from behind the shower curtain.

There was a girl in a plain, long brown and white dress with a bonnet on her head walking around the room. The girl placed a bundle of…something (clothes? Towels?) on the bed and then walked to the mirror I had entered this world from. She sighed at it and put her hands on her hips. I couldn't place it, but there was something oddly familiar about how the girl held herself.

Then, she turned on her heel and began walking towards the shower. Gasping, I tried to hide in the corner of the bath.

Suddenly, she pulled the curtain open, and we both screamed. Her hands immediately flew to her eyes, and I gripped the curtain and closed it, only allowing my head to poke out. With shallow and shaky breaths I asked, "You always barge in on people's showers like that, Carls?"

"M-My apologies, miss," she said as she slowly uncovered her eyes. "I did not mean to—" her gaze slid to the mirror and stayed there. "I have come with a message from Prince Fredward, miss. He says that lunch is prepared and they are all waiting for you to start."

I rolled my eyes. "Carly, _please_ just call me Sam." Then my expression shifted to confusion. "And what does he mean 'all'? Who else is here?"

"In the castle, miss?" And then she began the royal role-call. "There are the maids, such as myself, the stable hands, the court jester, the apothecary, the guards, the knights, the cooks, the footmen, and Queen Marissa and Prince Fredward." Then Carly shrugged. "But at the table there will only be you, Queen Marissa, and Prince Fredward, miss."

Scoffing, I said, "Whoa, small table, huh?"

Her eyes immediately went wide again. "Oh no, miss!" she shook her head rapidly. "Never, miss!"

I glared. "_Sam_," I corrected. My face then scrunched in disgust. "And please, _please_ just call him Freddie." Something about the title 'Prince Fredward' just sounded _wrong_. Despite the fact that it was also so obviously cheesy sounding. Just like the title 'Lady Samantha'.

Her wide, shocked gaze flashed to mine. "But he's _royalty_, miss!"

"Yeah, well," I shrugged. "So am I, kinda, right?"

"Well," her eyes drifted to the mirror again. "I suppose so."

"Then I order you to just call us by our regular names and that's it."

"But mi—"

I shot her a disapproving glare.

"Sam…" she paused, her gaze shifting back to the mirror. "With all due respect, you do not hold any authority in this house, because you do not yet live here."

"Hey, yeah, what was that about anyway?" I questioned, my eyebrows furrowing in curiosity.

Carly's face shot back to mine, her expression deeply worried. "You should get downstairs, miss," she said, sidestepping the question as if she hadn't heard it, though her face gave away the fact that she had. "The prince does not like to be kept waiting." And then she was gone.

It was useless to shout over the heavy wooden door and the running water, but I did anyway. "It's _Sam_!" I yelled.

Huffing, I shut off the water and stepped out of the shower. After I'd dried up and put my blue dress back on, I went to stare at the mirror.

What was so interesting in there that made Carly look so nervous? All I saw was the iCarly studio, and myself, dressed in my normal clothes, staring back at me. I wondered if that's what she had seen.

With a shrug, I turned from the mirror, and then I walked out the door, running my fingers through my somehow dry hair as I did.

This place really _did_ seem magical.

But then there was that cold feeling.

And suddenly I was more alert than ever again.

--

**AN: Some iiiinteresting stuff happening here in Chapter 3. Heard that "Dreaming" music right at the end there, again. –Shake- Just plain creepy. But as you can see, things are kind of strange here in mirror world. Nice, but strange. Oh, and I'll assure you all now, that even though all the people here seem to know who Sam is already (except not **_**who**_** who she is…) that this is not a dream. The mirror world's real, just out of the norm. And everyone knows of Sam because the prince (whose full name makes me giggle) has told everyone of her presence, or, ya know, she's seen them beforehand. It's a little tricky to understand, but I'm sure in due time, you guys'll get it. =) Anyway, hope you enjoyed! Would love to see your responses!**

**-Fictions**


	4. Chapter 4

Summary: Spencer purchases an old-fashioned mirror. What will happen when Sam discovers that the mirror is more than it seems?

Disclaimer: Hey you guys, I saw "Coraline" again today! =O But that has nothing to do with the fact that I don't own iCarly and that Dan Schneider does.

iWent Through the Glass: Chapter 4

As I walked down the halls of the castle, I got the strong sensation that I was completely alone. It felt as if I was the only one in the fortress and I wandered, often losing my way on my trip to the dining hall. There wasn't even anyone I could talk to, to find out if I was going the wrong way or not.

I shivered. It had gotten increasingly cold, I noticed, and I rubbed my hands over my arms, my teeth chattering slightly. My eyebrows were lowered for some reason—almost in concern or worry.

The weirdest part about the castle hallway, though, had to be its lighting. It was an indoor hallway, with no windows lining the walls. The only sources of light to be found were candles that were spread pretty far apart from each other. Yet, somehow, the hall looked as if it were lit by normal light bulbs.

Man, was this place strange and confusing. Scoffing, I shook my head as I rolled my eyes. And then my thoughts drifted back to what happened when "Prince Fredward" wished me farewell. He _kissed_ me. Why did I _let him_ kiss me? Why didn't I react? Why didn't I _punch_ him?

But then a better question floated to the top of the mounding pile in my mind—Why hadn't I _wanted_ to punch him?

What _were_ we, even, now? Were we friends that just liked each other? (I say "each other" because apparently there's been another me filling my shoes while I've been off in my own world. Not because _I_ like Freddie or anything.) Were we...lovers? The thought made me cringe, yet it brought a warm feeling to my face. My hands suddenly clenched; cheeks suddenly hurt.

Just what had that kiss of his meant…?

It was then that I found the dining room. I was surprised because, well, not only had I just been lost in thought over a very odd topic, but also I could've sworn I had had that "walking in circles" feeling. And I'm not usually wrong about those types of things.

"Sam!" Freddie called from the table, grinning widely. "You made it!" He laughed. "I was nervous you had gotten lost."

"Uh," I smiled slightly and gave an embarrassed chuckle. "No worries there, Freddork. I can handle myself."

There was a twinkle in Freddie's eyes at this.

Mrs. Benson tilted her head from the other side of the table. "Welcome to the dining hall, Lady Samantha. But I must ask—what is a "Freddork"?"

I walked around the table searching for my seat, keeping my eyes low as I answered. "Your geek of a son, that's what. Oh wait," I stole a glance at the food at the center of the table. "I mean, '_prince_'," I said in a bout of sarcasm.

It was silent, and I looked up to see Mrs. Benson looking almost nervously at Freddie. Her grip on the table was so tight that her knuckles were white. Man, this lady is insane in _any_ universe.

Freddie laughs, breaking the silence. "She's joking, mother." Folding his hands on the table, he adds, with a nod of his head, "And I believe I told you she wants to be called Sam."

"Oh, yes!" she shouts. "My sincerest apologies, Sam. I bite my thumb."

I stopped her before she could reach her mouth. "Um, no need, Mrs. Benson. It's okay." After making my way fully around the table without finding my seat, I looked to both of the table's occupants. "Hey, where's my seat at this thing?"

Freddie smiles and gestures next to himself. "Right here, Sam."

"Oh." My eyebrows furrowed as I came to the vacant seat right next to the nub. "So, where's my plate?" I ask, taking in the detail that there's only one plate-setting there.

He laughs. "It's my plate, Sam."

I grin falsely. "That's nice, Freddie. I'm glad you know that. Good boy."

Instead of glaring, like any sane person would, he just smiles wider and laughs. This disappoints me, actually. I was kind of looking forward to one of his stupid normal flares of anger. "No, I mean we share this Sam. My plate is your plate."

I cock an eyebrow as I sit down. Scooting in my chair, I draw a line with my finger down the center of the plate. "Okay, then. This side—" I pointed to the right. "—Is mine. And that side—" I pointed to the left, now. "—Is yours."

Freddie shrugged. "If that's what you want."

Looking over the area again, I shook my head in confusion. "Where's my knife, fork, spoon…?"

He shakes his head, and puts his hand over mine, calling my attention to his face. Beaming, he replies. "You won't be needing them." Cutting a slice of ham, he brings it to my mouth. "_I'll _be feeding you," he grins.

My face went hot, eyes went wide, and my heart began racing—though I felt frozen. But I somehow ended up standing anyway. "No way. Not happening."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Freddie shoot some sort of glance at his mother.

After a pause of what looked like confusion from Mrs. Benson, she gave a forced-sounding clear of her throat.

Freddie looked back up to me. "Please, Sam?" he asks. "It's a tradition of ours. I'm sorry if it makes you feel uncomfortable, but please honor me this once?" His face is completely pleading.

I purse my lips. This whole set-up _does_ make me feel uncomfortable and awkward, but I was so hungry. I unconsciously lick my lips while staring at the food in the center of the table.

"You only have to eat as much as you want," he says, bringing my attention back to him.

Slowly and silently, I lower myself into my seat again.

"I beg your pardon, majesties," comes Carly's voice from the side of the room. I look to her. Oh, come on, Carls, please get me out of this and just sneak me some food. "But if the miss isn't hungry, there are other things that she could partake in. She could visit the stables or the garden. Or she could return to her room?" she suggests. "The mirror there needs attending to—it looks quite dusty to my eyes."

I expect Mrs. Benson to answer, but it's Freddie that does. "Oh, don't be silly, Carly. Cleaning mirrors is the work of maids, not of future royalty." He brushes my cheek with the back of his hand. A chill runs through me. But it's not the good kind of chill—it's not the exhilarated chill. It's much too close to that cold feeling from before to be considered nice. "Besides, no one's forcing her to eat. She is hungry, or else she would not have sat back down. Now please, leave us."

Carly purses her lips and then hesitantly, she bows. "As you wish, sire." And then she leaves the room without a word from Mrs. Benson.

I shift awkwardly as I take my first bite of the delicious food, and accept Freddie's tradition. After a pretty quick and tiny meal—the uncomfortable situation made me very un-hungry—I stood up, without permission in another test of Freddie's limits. "Well," I said as I pushed in my chair and walked around the table. I distinctly saw Mrs. Benson tense up when I neared her, and she almost hunched over her food, as if hiding it or protecting it. I let it slide, though. For some reason I felt calling notice to it might not be the best decision ever. "I'm going to my room." And then I continued my way out of the room.

I soon heard footsteps pattering along beside me; it was Freddie.

I looked to him with a raised eyebrow, my hands swinging at my sides as I took notice that I was walking much faster than I thought I was.

"I'll escort you there," he smiled.

We spent the rest of the way up in silence. It wasn't that I didn't like this Freddie, he—like everyone else besides Mrs. Benson—was just different and for some reason I didn't feel comfortable talking with him like I did with the Freddie I knew back in the other world.

Speaking of Queen Crazy Pants, I took notice of something very interesting as I passed her. None of her food looked as if it was eaten. The food was all moved around and messed up, but I swear that none of it was missing. I know the difference between played-with food and ravaged food. And that was definitely only played with. Pretty strange if you ask me.

For some reason the walk back upstairs to my room seemed to go a lot quicker than the walk to the dining hall, even though it was the same distance, because now we stood just outside the door. As Freddie reached for the knob, the idea hit me that maybe it had just taken less time because I had someone walking with me that knew the castle and wouldn't get us lost.

Once the door opened, I felt my face tighten in confusion. "Uh, where's the mirror?" I asked slowly, pointing to the spot where it once stood.

Freddie smiled as he walked to my side. "Oh, Carly must've decided to clean it." He smoothly turned to the spot, nodded and then turned back to me. "That was pretty thoughtful of her, don't you think?"

Pausing for a moment, my eyebrows lowered into a glare. "No, not really," I said as I walked over to the spot where the mirror had been and began to feel around in the empty air, as if it could've possibly just turned invisible.

He chuckled. "Sam, what's the problem?"

"The _problem_, Frediot," I stopped for a moment to let the new nickname sink in—for both Freddie and myself—as I turned towards him again. "Is that I _need_ that thing. And now it's gone."

Freddie was still as his face went completely blank. I thought he might snap, and the thought actually made a slight smile threaten to form on my lips. But instead, he just replied in a flat tone, "If my opinion matters at all, I think you look lovely."

My face lost all expression at that moment, and a stale wind seemed to blow past. The air definitely seemed thicker and the room was much, much colder again. I resisted urge to rub my arms. I'm not sure why, but the action seemed like a sign of weakness to me, and it felt like something I should _not_ be doing now—now that Freddie's eyes were boring into mine.

His eyes seemed to tighten almost as he tilted his head, his face little more than an empty plain. "Perhaps we should go down to the stables." A smile now played at his features, but only a ghost of what once was there. And for some reason it looked different.

My face automatically shifted into my usual bored and threatening expression. "I'd rather go alone, thanks," I said showing my teeth. I'm not really certain why I was acting or speaking like that—it just sort of happened instinctively.

A full, almost amused smile was on his face again and he nodded once in affirmation. "Sure if that's what you want," he shrugged. "I'll come back and meet with you later tonight, then." But as Freddie said that, he walked over to my supposed bed and sat down, apparently not intending to move.

I spoke slowly in perplexity. "O…kay?"

He nodded once again, half-smiling now. "See you later, Sam."

Pursing my lips, I muttered out, "Bye," with a half-shrug and a slight shake of my head. And then I headed out of the room and down the hall, trying not to get lost again.

I found the stable miraculously easily. It was almost like the area was calling to me—felt as if I were being pulled there by some unseen force.

The door was open when I got there, and there was a guy with his back to me leaning over a table. He threw a blanket over the table and then turned around, immediately jumping and screaming in shock. But he quickly recovered. "Oh!" he shouted breathlessly as he beamed, putting a hand to his heart. "Sam. Nice to see you!"

My face brightened in recognition. "Spencer!" I called excitedly as I stepped into the barn. Placing my hands on my hips, I felt my lips tug up at the corner of my mouth. "Hey, you didn't call me 'Lady Samantha'."

He waved a hand. "Nah. The title didn't seem to suit you. Didn't seem like you'd like that stuff."

"Good call," I scoffed. Tilting my head, I asked, "Hey, I thought Carly said there were stable _hands_, as in plural, here. So, why's it just you?"

"I'm the only one. She must've made a mistake." Spencer shrugged. "I don't really blame her, though. Those maids have it tough—lots of things to remember, lots of things to do…"

"Oh," I said, my eyebrows lifting. It was a logical answer.

"Yeah," he laughed. "So, what's up?" Spencer asked as he took a seat on a wooden crate that creaked beneath his weight.

"Nothing," I shrugged. "Kind of bored. Not much to do after that awkward meal…" my speech trailed off.

Spencer's face took up a slow grin. "They made him feed you, huh?"

My face stretched long, and my bottom lip pouted out in embarrassment (it's my way of avoiding blushing, what?) as I nodded hesitantly.

Spencer laughed a little and then reached into his bag producing a piece of bread. "Here," he said as he tossed it to me.

I caught it and bit into it. "Thanks," I answered around my now full mouth of bread.

"Yeah, they do that with all the due-to-be-wed couples."

"Wha--?!" I tried to shout as the food got sucked down my windpipe. And then I began choking.

Spencer stayed seated, his arms behind him keeping him braced on the crate.

After gripping my throat, and coughing for about a minute and a half with no help, I was able to finally talk again. I knew my face had to look completely appalled and I shouted in my now-strained voice when I tried to merely speak. "Due-to-be-_wed_?!"

"Yeah!" Spencer yelled excitedly as he beamed. "You know, like, engaged!"

"I know what it means!" I said in a rush, my eyebrows now lowered, my face suddenly flushed. "I can't get married to _Freddie_!"

Spencer shook his head. "Why not?" he asked as he raised an eyebrow.

"Because," I yelled in reply. "I don't like him like that…" I noticed my voice faded slightly near the end of the declaration. And then my gaze hit the floor.

He chuckled loudly and then my head flew up to meet Spencer's gaze. "I'm sorry," he shook his head and waved a hand. "But your rosy cheeks really beg to differ with the words that you speak."

Looking to the back of the room, just past the table with the blanket on it, I saw my face in the mirror. Spencer was right—my cheeks were bright red, almost glowing. And I quickly bit down on them and threw my hands up to mask them.

He laughed more as he stood and walked outside. As he did, my eyes stayed on the mirror. I realized that it wasn't just my cheeks that seemed to glow in the reflection, but practically my whole being as well. My face scrunched in perplexity. But then I took notice of the lump under the blanket. My eyebrows knit together.

And then I saw the pale, white hand poking out from under the sheet, and I felt my face go just as white.

As I forcefully brought my locked legs into a slow backward-walk, Spencer's voice drifted back into the room. "Sam?" he asked. "Did you hear me?"

"N-no," I said lowly, breathlessly, my eyes unmoving.

"There's a storm coming," he said as he pointed upward. "So you should probably head back to the castle."

My eyes darted to him and my voice stalled before I answered, "Okay." It was pretty unlike a murderer to give someone a chance to escape, but I didn't have the time to really think about that. I just wanted to get away at that moment.

Everything was a blur as I took off into a quick walk back to the castle, but Spencer called me back before I could enter inside. "Oh, and Sam?" he asked.

I hesitantly spun around, my face still blank.

"Be careful," he said in an uncharacteristically serious tone. "Spider webs are often inviting. But they are also dangerous, and nearly impossible to see."

"I'll…keep that in mind," I answered numbly. And then I was back in a run.

Once I got back to my room, I sat in the center of the bed and held my knees to my chest. I was terrified, but for some reason no emotion would allow itself to be shone on my face. Perhaps there were just too many emotions swirling in my head? All I knew was that I wanted to go home. I wanted to go home _now_.

Freddie didn't come back later that night, but Carly did. She looked like she wanted to tell me something when she found me, still in the same position on the center of my bed. She froze when her eyes met the spot where the mirror once stood. Her eyes widened and watered and her hands flew to her mouth as I heard her gasp louder than I thought humanly possible.

She gasped as if it were the only thing she could do to keep from screaming. Her face was utterly horrified, and yet utterly _horrifying_ as well. And then she turned around and ran straight out the door.

Clenching my eyes shut, I cradled my head in my hands, the thunder crashing outside as I did.

Tears spilled onto my cheeks as I stifled a whimper. Everything was wrong here, and all I wanted was normalcy. I needed my real friends—my real life back.

I wanted to forget about the body hidden in Spencer's stable.

I wanted to forget about Freddie's kiss and the confusion it brought.

I wanted to forget about Carly's fear-struck face.

I just wanted to forget…

And then, I did…

But not about the right things.

--

**AN: And there we have what I like to call Holy Crap Chapter 4! 8D Honestly, this one was so…racy to write. It was just so entertaining for me—funny, happy, scary…Ironically, there's not much to say about this one. But I do hope you enjoyed it. I love reading your reviews, I really do! You seriously have got to see how excited I get when I submit a chapter, because I can't wait to see what you guys think! (Even if it were only one or two of you to comment about it =) ) It's just so much fun to hear that people are entertained by what I produce ^^ I just want to thank you all so much, because you're truly the ones I do this for. Thanks again!**

**-Fictions**


	5. Chapter 5

Summary: Spencer purchases an old-fashioned mirror. What will happen when Sam discovers that the mirror is more than it seems?

Disclaimer: You know Dan Schneider?! …I'm not him. So I don't own iCarly. Sadly.

iWent Through the Glass: Chapter 5

It's been three days since that morning when I woke up in a sitting position with my knees to my chest. I had asked my prince what had made me take such a posture to sleep in, but he simply replied that I had had a stomachache and told him that I was more comfortable that way.

I had to accept that answer. It was the best one I had gotten. I only wished that I could remember the events of that day. Hmm. Since then, I had really been cooped up in the castle. I was stuck figuring out wedding plans while my darling was away visiting other nobles. But even when he was back in the castle, he seemed to be drowned in work. I wished that I could help him, but I was overworked as it was. Who knew that planning would be so tiresome?

Carly had not shone up since before the day I could not remember, and I missed her quite a bit. I wanted to see her, but when I spoke to the other maids, they all proclaimed that she was busy.

I decided, instead, to visit Spencer, the stable hand.

"Good morning, Spencer," I called with a strong, wide smile on my face.

He looked up from stacking bales of hay and cast me a suspicious raise of his eyebrow while his mouth shifted to the left side of his face. "Good morning, Sam," he said in a slow tone.

Now I cocked an eyebrow towards him. Servants did not address royalty by only their given names. "That would be Lady Samantha, Spencer." I was still smiling, though. The slip of the tongue had not offended me. It had merely struck me as odd.

Spencer's face grew more confused-looking, and his voice shrank even smaller. "I thought you didn't like being called that."

"Of course I do!" I exclaimed in reply. "And I always have been referred to as such—since I was a little girl here."

The stable hand shook his head. "You never _were_ a little girl here."

My eyebrows furrowed and I began walking backwards, now in fear. Such talk scared me for some unknown reason. "Of course I was. I grew up here."

"_No_, you _didn't_!" he shouts, gripping my shoulders. He shakes his head and chuckles at the apparent ridiculousness of my statement. "You grew up in a world that was far more modern than this. Where titles such as yours…and societies such as this, don't really exist! You live in a city with buildings, not castles! Your friends in your real world stand by you through everything—they don't disappear, or abandon you like they have here!"

My face is worried and my voice trembles as I speak. "If you don't stop, I'll have to call the guards. Unhand me, please."

After one short pause of searching into my eyes—for what, I do not know—his seemingly never-fading smile dies, and his hands drop from my arms.

I plan to escape—to run while he is away—but something stops me, and keeps me in place as Spencer makes his way to the back of the barn. He mumbles something that sounds vaguely like, "It might have taken my powers, but I can still mix potions…"

From one of the empty stalls, he produced a mortar and pestle. Throwing some pieces of straw into the cup, he grabbed his saddlebag, from which he pulled out a few small berries. Carefully cutting out the seeds from the fruit, and not allowing a drop of the nectar from the berries to fall, he added the pits into the mortar. After grinding the ingredients together with the pestle, he again ran to the empty stall. Spencer reappeared with a small pitcher of boiling water.

Glancing up at me only once he said, "You're lucky you came by in time for tea," and then he poured some of the water inside of the cup. Gripping the berries, he squeezed them over the mortar, allowing their red juices to intermingle with the tan-colored (because of the hay and grounded seeds) water. The color became crimson—almost a true blood red.

I shook my head in confusion. "Why do you even have such utensils and resources out here?"

Spencer paused what he was doing and looked up, to grin at me. "The castle is not kind in return to the people who take such good care of it, _Lady Samantha_." He said my name in a drawn out tone, as if mocking me in some sort of way, but only playfully. Then he began furiously digging through his bag once more. "Where is--?" he started to asked, until, "—Ahah! " he called. "Got it." And then he pulled out what looked to be blue sand from a secret compartment. With his eyes locked in concentration on mine, he gingerly sprinkled the blue powder into the cup. Suddenly, he lifted it to his lips, and blew on it.

I was caught in a cloud of green—for some reason, this experience seemed oddly familiar to me—and I could've sworn that I heard the sound of bubbling. After I wiped my eyes, careful not to get any powder on my sleeve, I saw that the concoction that Spencer had put together was now boiling, as if he had simply heated it with his breath. And though the powder that was dropped in was blue, and the smoke that had flown out was green, the mixture was somehow purple.

"Here," he said, bringing the cup to my face. "Drink this."

I shook my head. "Why should I believe you?" I still wasn't positive what sort of force had kept me from running away or calling the guards when I had wanted to.

Lowering the cup, I saw that his face was full of only serious emotion, as was his voice. "Because I'm one of the only ones that you should."

With his words rang a bell of truth in my ears, but I could not understand the reason for it—everyone here was perfectly trustworthy. Why should I believe the stable hand over anyone else? Yet, I reached for the cup and slowly put it to my lips, allowing the sweet mixture to be consumed.

My eyelids fluttered closed—

--And suddenly I was back. And way more confused than ever. What the heck had just happened? "What the heck just happened?" I asked. (Hey, I'm a girl who speaks her thoughts.)

A slight smile appeared on Spencer's face and he scoffed. "Welcome back, Sam."

My lips came together in a hard line. "Yeah, yeah, enough with the happy hello's, what's going on?" I asked with impatience.

His face drops completely—not in the way Freddie's had four days ago; not into blankness, but into sadness.

I suck in a deep breath, averting my gaze and huff. "I'm sorry. I'm just really confused, and I need to clear this stuff up. Why didn't I remember being back in the real world, and where's Carly? And," my face suddenly turned disgusted. "_Why_ was I being so lovey-dovey over Freddie? Did I _really_ refer to him as _"darling"_? I mean, I _like_ the guy—"

There was a twinkle in Spencer's eyes, which he tried to hide so as to not betray his current serious nature, but I immediately snuffed it out.

"—_As a friend_," I shot him a very Carly-like disapproving look. This just wasn't the time for that. "But I'd never go so far as to become a mush with him. What you see is what you get with--…." I realized I was rambling and sighed heavily, rolling my eyes. "Look, just, what happened, okay?"

Spencer leaned back against the wooden wall of the stable and shook his head, very uncharacteristically seriously. "It just—" his hand flew to his mouth, which he rubbed as if in frustration. "—Tried to trap you here by making you forget about all you've left behind."

My brows furrowed and I shrugged. "Why?" My eyes narrowed in annoyance and confusion. "What's 'it'?"

"As for Carly," Spencer continued as he pushed himself from the wall. "I have no idea. But I bet the royalty does."

"Okay," I nodded. My eyes hit the floor as I thought up my next plan of action. "So, I'll just find Freddie and ask him where she is."

"No," Spencer said, once again calling my attention to him. He was now sitting back on the crate he had four days ago. "Ask the queen. She's much more…lenient."

I scoffed. "Mrs. Benson? You kidding?"

"Just trust me," he said, casting a wide grin in my direction. The expression, however, did not reach his eyes.

Still, I found that I couldn't _not_ trust him, and my face went serious as I nodded.

Spencer gave a half-wave of his hand. "Good luck, Sam."

With a slow return of the gesture, I left the stable and headed back for the castle. The wind blew menacingly strong as I walked, but I pressed on. It felt challenging, as if the world itself held something that it didn't want me to see. But I'm one of the best when it comes to uncovering secrets. And I sure as hell wasn't going to let this one pass me by.

As I entered the main hall, I was greeted with the sound of the royal orchestra playing a very melodic tune—it sounded sweet, yet eerie, as if it had that cold I've been feeling so much hanging off of each note of it. I noticed that I recognized every one of the instrument players and quickly ran over to ask if any of them knew the way to the throne room so that I could talk to the queen.

There was a bit of a problem with that plan, though—the orchestra seemed to be happily ignoring me. I tried to talk to Germy, and he just kept on playing, louder than before. I ran to Wesley, and he closed his eyes, proceeding to play even louder. Finally, I ran to Jonah, who smiled, and played deafeningly loud until I just ultimately gave up, with an exasperated groan, and stomped my way off to any other group of people I could find.

Regretfully the next person I ran into happened to be Valerie, in maid form. Maybe it was her over-chipper attitude but I found this one to be somehow more annoying than the Valerie from the real world. I hesitantly thanked her when she pointed me in a direction. I discovered later, however, that my hesitation was not in vain.

After about a half-an-hour, I finally made it to the throne room where Mrs. Benson was. No thanks to all those maids and guards and everyone I spoke to along the way that all seemed to cheerfully try to point me in a different wrong direction.

There's no way that _everyone _that works in the castle could possibly tell me the wrong way to the throne room. Unless, of course, they were lying. But why _would_ they? Things just kept getting more and more suspicious around here, leaving more and more questions to rise in my mind.

Eventually, I decided that the best way to get where I wanted to go when everyone I asked for directions lied and pointed me the wrong way was to just go in the opposite direction from the one they told me to. I wouldn't have expected something so simple to actually work, but sure enough, it did.

As I entered the room, I got straight to the point. "Alright, Queen Crazy, where's Carly?"

Mrs. Benson's face tightened, and she tilted her head to the side as she asked in one of the lowest voices I've ever heard, "Who is Carly?"

I shook my head and with a roll of my eyes, replied, "The maid? The one that hasn't been around at all for three days?" Honestly, how could you not know the servants in your own castle? I also took notice of the room in this time—there were oddly no guards in the room with "Queen Marissa" and the whole place was practically empty. The only real things in the nearly white stone room were the throne and the carpet that led up to it.

"Oh," her gaze shot to the distance before meeting mine again. "Carly has been transferred to another castle," she nodded.

"Really?" I asked, raising my eyebrows challengingly.

"Yes," she confirmed not very convincingly as she began to flush, and nodded rapidly. "Why?"

"Because that's not what the rest of the maids said."

Her eyes went wider than normal at that moment. "I'm sorry, I can say no more," she said in a hurried tone as she lifted a hand to her face.

I glared. I was _really _getting sick of this. "Why not?!" I yelled. "You're the queen! You _rule_ this place! You can do whatever you want!"

Mrs. Benson's mouth was tight shut like a locked door, but her sad features told me that she wished she were able to continue.

My expression softened. "Look, I'm really lost right now," I said as I slipped back into civility. "All this weird stuff has been happening here and I'm really…freaked out." My eyes lowered, as did my voice when I mumbled, "I'm scared."

When I looked back up, I saw that Mrs. Benson's chest was heaving with heavy breaths, and her eyes were wide and full—glistening. She looked as if her heart was breaking.

Believe it or not, that wasn't my original intent. All my words were genuine, and I couldn't help but to continue. "And I can't find the mirror I came here through, so I can't get home, so my friends here are the only ones I have. And now, I can't even find the person who's the mirror of my best friend who I've known for almost my whole life." My eyes fully lifted to her again. "I really need help right now, Mrs. Benson," I said, my voice feeling too heavy for me to manage as it shook in my throat.

I saw that she began to rise from where she sat, as if my words had propelled her to do so.

"I just don't know what to do," my head shook. One again, as fresh tears rolled from my eyes, I said, "I'm scared." And at that moment, I had to fight to choke back a sob. My face moved downward to try and hide the tears that fell from my eyes.

"Leave," came Mrs. Benson's voice, breaking her vow of silence and calling my attention back to her face.

"What?" I asked in shock.

"Leave," she repeated, her face contorted in pain. Cracks formed in her features as if her face were merely ice that had been stepped on too hard. Suddenly, her voice switched into an urgent shouting. "Run, child!" she yelled as bits of her face began to fall to the ground, revealing the image of a withered old woman behind it. "Run away from this world! Away from _it_!" As she screamed her words at me, her voice began to shatter as her face had, her tone becoming creaky like old stairs, and sharp as nails on a blackboard. She was trying to run for me, her quickly wrinkling hands outstretched as if to push or grab, but her legs seemed tense, as if she were struggling to walk.

I wanted to help her, but I was so terrified that I couldn't move. I could only stand there and watch as Freddie's mother fell apart before my eyes.

"Leave now!" she tried to shout in her crumbling voice. The tone itself was horrifying and a paradox all its own, as she tried to make her impossibly weak voice strong as she was able. And then, her hands still outstretched, and her hair now a blank white, she fell to the floor. And her chest heaved no more with sadness—no more with anxiety, no more with excitement.

No more with life.

I was frozen and all I could do was stand there, my whole body trembling as my chest rose and fell—as if Mrs. Benson had given me all her breath.

An alarm was sounded—the type of incessant bell one hears in an old-fashioned firehouse. As my gaze darted around the room, the lighting shifted from pure white to red. And then my name was being called.

Cries of "Lady Samantha!" carried in from outside and down the hall in a multitude of voices. And something told me that I needed to get away—to escape.

I took off running and quickly attempted to evade any sets of footsteps that I heard following mine. Stealthily, I ran into my now-dark bedroom, and closed the door, arming myself with a candlestick just in case I needed to fight.

My door suddenly opened and slammed shut then, a silhouette entering the area. Quietly, I raised the candlestick, ready to have it crash down on the shadow's head. And that's when the light switch that illuminated the room was flicked.

A scream.

Silence.

--

**AN: Whooooa, momma! Just how was that, you guys? I don't know, I'm really enjoying writing this. This last chapter really shook me up, got me breathing heavy and everything. As always, there's not much for me to say, here, but I'd love to see what you guys think =) Oh! I've also been compiling a playlist to go with this story. It's full of a variety of music and I'll be sure to post what songs have been included thus far soon! 'Til next time!**

**-Fictions**

**P.S. I've been getting a lot of questions about if there is a "Lady Samantha" and if so, what's happened to her. Well, I'll tell you guys, if it hasn't been said yet, there's a reason for it. Everything's done purposely, so you'll all just have to sit back for the ride. But trust me on this ;D**

**P.P.S The song being played by the orchestra (or at least the one **_**I **_**had in mind) is Bach's "Little Fugue in G Minor." I suggest you guys give that a listen. It's a very…interesting piece. Very misleading and bipolar—goes from sweet to scary really quickly.**


	6. Chapter 6

Summary: Spencer purchases an old-fashioned mirror. What will happen when Sam discovers that the mirror is more than it seems?

Disclaimer: OhmygodIdon'towniCarlyohmygod.

iWent Through the Glass: Chapter 6

Man, I could recognize that scream anywhere.

I'm so glad Carly turned on the light when she did; otherwise I might've--…

Wait a minute. The scream I heard was definitely Carly's. But the girl standing in front of me had wide green eyes, a heart-shaped face, and mousy brown hair. "You're not Carly," I said with a raised eyebrow.

"No, I am not, miss," she shook her head breathlessly. "And I apologize for ever having to make you think otherwise."

"Who are you?" I asked through my teeth, grip still tight on the candlestick. I was _not_ in the mood to play nice right now.

Gulping, the girl walked slowly closer to me, her hands linked in front of her in full view. "My name is Tara," she said softly. "My last name, I do not recall."

I rolled my eyes, my hands moving to my hips. "How do you not know your last name?"

"I've been here far too long for me to remember," she said as her eyebrows knit together in melancholy. "As time passes, memory fades, miss."

Pausing for a moment, I shifted my weight. "How long have you _been_ here?" I asked, lowly.

Her gaze averted from mine. "It's hard to say, miss," Tara said as she rubbed the back of her scalp in thought. "Longer than most, but for a shorter time than Alex."

"Alex?" I asked, shaking my head.

"The stable hand, miss."

"About that," I glared again. "When I first talked to you, you said there were stable _hands_, as in plural, here. But when I went downstairs, Spencer…or Alex, or _whoever he is_ told me that he was the only one. _Then_ I found out he was housing a _body_ down there—was _that_ the other stable hand?"

Tara paused while biting her lip. Her brows were still lowered in sadness, and her eyes darted wildly around the room. "It is not my place to say, miss," she said, finally meeting my gaze again. "That is Alex' business."

My voice grew somewhat louder in annoyance. "What?"

She shrank back, holding out her hands in a gesture of peace. "I apologize, miss."

Sighing exasperatedly, I let my tone go civil and soft again. "What are we even doing here?" I asked with a shrug of my shoulders.

"We are all trapped here, miss," Tara replied somberly. "All lured here and kept here by _him_."

I cocked an eyebrow in suspicion, shifting my weight onto my other hip. "Who?"

"Your Prince Fredward, miss."

My eyes widened and I almost fell over in shock. In fact, I had to put my arms out to regain my balance. "_What_?"

"He was not always Fredward, though," she continued. "Once, he was my love, Jonathan. My love that loved another…"

As Tara's face dropped, I couldn't help but do the same thing. For some reason, I felt like I could relate to her. But then, more questions came to me. "So, is Freddie or Jonathan like you guys? Wearing a disguise?"

Tara looked back up. "Well, it _is_ a disguise," she nodded in confirmation. "But we are not the same. We are human. He is a monster, who keeps us here as slaves, and consumes our energy and life force."

Not that the thought didn't gross me out, but I still had more questions. My confusion stopped Tara's words from fully sinking in. I shook my head. "I don't get it. If he's just going to use you as servants or food, why go through the trouble of giving you a fantasy world?"

"Well, firstly," she said. "It's to convince you to stay here, and get you to forget about all you're leaving behind."

I pursed my lips at the memory that I had fallen into that very trap.

"Secondly," she gulped, her eyes hitting the floor. "He's said that the happier the heart, the sweeter the blood that flows through the veins. Sadness also makes us age, and die off much more quickly"

My face paled. The cold feeling had returned and my teeth chattered. My ever-curious voice traveled over the rapidly rising lump of fear in my throat. "So when you got trapped here, you forgot about your home?" I asked lowly.

"Oh no, miss," Tara said while shaking her head. "No, I never did. But he hid the mirror from me, just as he has from you. And by the time I found it—"

There was suddenly the sound of footsteps clattering on the ground from right outside the door. Guards.

Gasping, Tara turned towards it and then turned back to me. "I must speak quickly and quietly, for they are searching for me," she said in a whisper.

"You?" I asked in perplexity, shaking my head. "Why are they looking for _you_?"

"Because I had escaped with knowledge of where the mirror is and I have come to bring you this information. The mirror—"

At that moment, the door swung open to reveal Jake and Shane—or what looked to be Jake and Shane.

"_There_ you are!" shouts Shane, cheerfully as he grabs Tara by the arms. "The prince would like to have a word with you, young maid."

She thrashes in his grasp and screams out, "No!"

"Now, now, it's only a talk," Jake chuckles. "Calm down, girl!"

"Let go of her!" I order, approaching with my candlestick weapon raised.

Jake unsheathes his sword. My gaze immediately flies to the gleaming tip, which is pointed at me.

"We apologize, Lady Samantha," says Shane. "But I'm afraid you don't have power here, yet. We must do what the prince commands."

Then, Tara's terrified eyes fly to mine, and she shouts, "Just opposite this room in the West hall!" And then she repeats, "Just opposite this room in the West hall!" as she writhes.

Shane laughs. "Such nonsense she speaks," he shakes his head, smiling from ear-to-ear. "Come on, off we go." And then he marches Tara out of the room.

I have to fight off the urge to follow as Jake exits the room in a backwards walk, his sword still pointed towards me, though he is smiling. "Do not worry, Lady Samantha," he tries to sound comforting. "The prince will come see you shortly after he is through with the matter at hand."

His words only made me freeze in my spot. And they were gone, the sound of the slamming bedroom door left in their wake.

It took a few minutes for me to snap out of my stupor, but when I did I went flying out the door. I zoomed down the hallway, trying desperately not to get lost. The halls were completely dark now, the amazing candles from before having seemingly vanished, and the cold feeling hung around every inch of space in the castle.

I really didn't want to leave Tara to the mercy of the guards and the "prince" or whatever the heck he was, but I needed to find that mirror. I hoped that I would get lucky and both she and the mirror would be in the same room. But there was a heavy feeling of doubt that lingered in my heart, and weighed down my being.

Suddenly, I heard the sound of clattering footsteps following my run—a guard. I didn't want to have to go in reverse and hightail it back to my room, but if that's what it took for me to not be caught, I would. Smoothly, I turned around and ran in the opposite direction.

"Stop!" yelled a voice that sounded like Duke, one of the wrestlers from school.

There was _no way_ I was listening to him. I just kept running as I heard his gait shift up into a chase.

But then, there was another sound of metal footsteps heading straight for me from the direction I was running to. I was trapped. And soon both sets of guards reached me—Duke on one side, Shane on the other.

They both unsheathed their swords. "You were told to stay in your room, Lady Samantha," said Shane, voice empty of cheer.

"Yeah, well," I began while trying to keep my eyes on both guys. "I've never really been one for following orders."

"The prince is not fond of those who do not obey him," Duke said as he proceeded to come closer, as did Shane.

"Whoa, whoa," I put my hands out. "I don't think the prince would be too happy if he found me shish kabobed."

"He will heal you," said Duke.

"He will have to," concluded Shane.

And then they both lunged at me.

But before they could strike, the floor gave way beneath me. And I fell down, with an uncontrollable scream of shock, into a chute of darkness.

--

**AN: Wha-hoa, alrighty! How'd you guys like this one? We found out lots of stuff in this short chapter. As for playlists, I find the song "Everybody's Fool" by Evanescence to be fitting for both this and the last chapter. For Chapter 4, I found "Desperate" by David Archuleta to be fitting, at least with the chapter's ending. And that's really all for now! Once again thank you for your reviews, and I hope you enjoyed!**

**-Fictions**


	7. Chapter 7

Summary: Spencer purchases an old-fashioned mirror. What will happen when Sam discovers that the mirror is more than it seems?

Disclaimer: Guess what I own?! =O ….NO, it's NOT iCarly…idiot…

iWent Through the Glass: Chapter 7

I couldn't help but scream the whole way down the chute. And it was embarrassing. Because _something_ had to be waiting for me at the end of the tunnel, and whether that something be a human or a monster or even something stupid like a frog, it _still_ heard me scream and I have an incredibly high-pitched, incredibly _girly_ scream.

Light flooded the area, blinding me. I flew out of the chute and landed in something slightly soft that rustled.

Groaning, I lifted my head to discover I had landed in a pile of hay.

"Looks like I've got some pretty good timing," chuckled Spencer. I say "Spencer" because the guy I now knew as Alex was still wearing the "Spencer mask."

Hoisting myself off of the pile of hay, I kept my eyes on him. "How did you do that?" I asked as I lifted myself off the ground.

"Do what?"

My hands slapped my legs, brushing particles of grain away from my knees. "That thing." Meeting his gaze, I asked, "You built that?" as I worked to take off my blue over-gown. When it was off, I began picking pieces of hay from it.

He laughed, arms crossing his chest. "I've been here for a very long time."

"How long?" I questioned. I was not in the mood for laughter—this was serious. I needed to know how long this stuff was going on for—needed to know how good or bad my chances of ever making it back to my world were.

His smile fell into a grimace. "So long that I was the first one here," he answers as his face slowly chips and falls away like old paint. Behind it is the slightly round face of a young adult boy—probably close to Spencer's age, but not exactly. His eyes are slightly less almond shaped, and they are cerulean blue. He no longer looks like he could possibly be related to Carly, or Tara at all. "So long that when I entered the mirror, it was not antique."

I shook my head. "It's the same mirror?"

Alex nods. "It always is from the outside."

"And what about from the inside?" I question.

He shrugs. "I haven't always been near it, I do not know."

I scoffed humorlessly. "That's strange because it looked like you knew everything."

"Oh, Sam," he says, smiling half-heartedly. "You should know by now that looks can be deceiving."

I shook my head in confusion. "But I don't understand; then how could you know it's always the same from the outside?"

"Because," he shrugged, taking a seat. "Every time a new person ended up in this world, and they came to me, they described the exact same mirror as I arrived here from. But," Alex sighed. "Then they forgot all about that—forgot all of their family, and friends that existed for them back in their own world, forgot all their worries and cares—and all because of _it_." He ended with a disgusted look on his face and spat, as if the thought caused bile to rise in his throat.

"Why do you keep calling it…well, "it"?" I asked. "Isn't the thing that's keeping us here a he?"

Alex scoffed. "No. It's neither male nor female. But it can appear however you want—_need_ it to."

My face scrunched in revulsion. "Gross," I muttered, and then I remembered Freddie's—or rather, the thing's—kiss to me, and I instantly felt one step closer to vomiting. I wiped furiously at my mouth.

"For me, it appeared as the girl I had known myself to be in love with—Emily." He sighed, wistfully, eyes on the ceiling. "I remember all those attempts I made at talking to her." Turning his head back to me, he nodded matter-of-factly. "Of course I never did, but I made the effort. "

Before I could say anything—not that there was anything to say—Alex' gaze was back on the ceiling, as he drowned himself in memories. I let my over-gown fall from my grasp as I listened to the story. For some reason, the stable felt warmer—safer.

He shook his head. "I should've noticed something way sooner than I did, having magical blood and all that." My eyes flashed at that. I had an idea. "I mean, I did feel something was off, but I didn't react to it 'til—"

"You have magic?" I shouted, cutting him off.

Looking back to me calmly, as if I hadn't rudely interrupted him at all, he frowned. "Had. The creature took my abilities from me once I was permanently stuck here. It said that by falling into its trap, I was too stupid to handle them anyway." He glared slightly at the remembrance.

A corner of my mouth fell, setting my expression into a crooked frown. "You forgot, too, huh?"

"Oh, no," he shook his head. "I was just too blinded by happiness and, admittedly, stupidity to look for a way out."

My frown grew deeper. It may sound childish, but I was actually upset that so far, it seemed I was the only one who had actually lost my memories of my true life. I felt weaker than everyone else.

"Don't feel bad," Alex called, gaining my attention again. "There's only a select few of us who have never forgotten—me, Tara, and—" His face went blank, and his eyes fell to the floor. I knew exactly what he had stumbled on.

Slowly, I said, "The person under the blanket," while nodding, knowingly.

His gaze jolted to mine, but he remained expressionless.

"Who was it?" I asked, almost demanded. This was no time for mysteries and secrets—not from supposed allies. "Who was the other stable hand?"

His head tilted slightly so he could glance behind him, but then he quickly looked back to me, and shook his head, his eyebrows knitting together. "I-I can't…" he stuttered out in a tone filled with sorrow.

Peering behind him I saw that the blanket and table were still in place directly in front of the mirror. My hands balled into fists, and a determined glare set into my features I shoved past Alex, who jumped at my touch, and made my way to the table.

I saw out of my periphery as I reached for the blanket, that Alex' eyes closed as if in fear. Pursing my lips tightly, I lifted the sheet. My eyes widened immediately. I was frozen.

"Since bodies don't decay here unless they are cast off, and fully drained by it," Alex began somberly. "I kept him here. I couldn't let him waste away—though his time was short here, he was my best friend." His words seemed to trail off, as I only partly perceived what he had said.

The face I saw staring back at mine was one of a withered, older version of my father.

I shook my head, tears welling up in my eyes. "No," I said in a forced voice. "No, this is a trap—" I began heading for the door of the stable, to leave. I was certain I was being deceived. "A trick."

"Why, after everything it's done to keep you here," Alex called from the same spot that he hadn't moved from behind me as I froze in my place. "Would it trick you to try and make you leave?"

Spinning around, I shrieked, "That can't be my father!" I was enraged, I was tired of all this horror…and I was frightened. "My father ran out on us when I was eight years old! And then my mother started to—" I broke off, hoping to skip ahead to continue. "And then _I_—" Glaring in frustration, I looked to the body lying on the table. Gulping in a heavy breath, I turned back to Alex and yelled, "He _left_ us!"

"Yes," Alex agreed with a curt nod. "And this is where he left _to_."

I paused for a moment, my glare growing tighter. "This is where he's been all along?" I asked, almost literally fuming.

"Sam, calm down," he commanded. "This isn't his fault."

"_Calm down_?" I repeated. "It's not his _fault_?!" I yelled. "After he just left like that, my mom and I became so distant, we barely even speak anymore! She doesn't buy me food, clothes—heck, she barely buys _herself_ that stuff! She's out all night _every_ night with a different guy! And, oh yeah, she hardly ever smiles anymore—did I mention that?!" My throat burned, ached with my fiery voice—I couldn't stop it now; I couldn't put out that fire. "My family fell apart after he disappeared and it's not his fault?! He's been hiding in this _fantasy land_ for seven years and it's not his _fault_?!"

"Sam," Alex stated calmly, keeping his voice steady as if completely unfazed by my outburst. "You know very well this is not a fantasy land."

My mouth snapped shut. Breathing my anger out, I spoke in a civil and subdued tone. "I know he and mom were fighting a lot before he left," I shook my head. "But how the hell could he let himself get stuck here?"

"First of all, I need you to know that it wasn't intentional, Sam—Daniel Puckett never _wanted_ to stay here forever." Alex sighs. "He entered this world—this _prison_ the same way you did. And when he got here, he found what looked to be Trish, your mother. Only there were no fights with this Trish—everything was happy; everything was perfect. But," Alex raises his index finger. "He knew that it wasn't real. And he knew he had to get back."

"Then why didn't he?" I asked as my confused eyes locked on the body of my father, and I felt myself take a deep gulp.

"Because he was tricked—convinced that he was stuck here by the monster." He let out a heavy sigh and shook his head. "And by the time Daniel saw through the lie, he really _was _trapped here."

My eyebrows furrowed, and my body felt heavy as my teeth came down on my lips. Suddenly, everything hurt—like my being was coming apart at the seams. I practically ran and knelt at my father's side. As I sniffled through my new tears, I took hold of his cold hand. I hadn't even realized when I murmured out, "Dad…"

"He spoke about you and Trish every day, Sam," Alex called from behind. But I was in too much pain to turn around right now. And it was too embarrassing to let it be known that I was actually crying. "It tore him apart that he couldn't get back to you. It drove him to madness—drove him to sadness; drove him to this."

Clenching dad's hand, my eyes slowly closed. And my teeth became bared as a different kind of anger began to flow through my veins. "_It _did this," I ground out. "It took me from my friends, it killed my father, and it ripped my family to shreds." Swiftly, I stood and spun to face Alex, eyes open now. "Don't worry—I'm going to beat this thing. And I'm going to get your magic back. And then all of you will be able to leave this hell."

Expression blank, he gives me a slight nod.

I turn to face my father again.

And discover that he's no longer there.

"He's gone!" I shouted to Alex. "That thing must've found out he was here and drained him!" I swore under my breath.

"No, it didn't, for three reasons." He holds up a hand and begins to count off on his fingers. "One, the final drain takes much longer than that. Two, from what I know it can only take place in a specific zone. And three, he hasn't left you at all. Look in the mirror," he says, grinning with a nod towards the looking glass. "This mirror shows only the truth. What do _you_ see in it?"

Reflected back at me, I saw my confused expression. But my own face did not wear it. In the mirror was the face of my father. And when I half-smiled, he half-smiled right back at me. I pressed my hand to his on the glass. And at that moment, the image glowed, blindingly bright, as a new breath of air seemed to fill my lungs. When the light died, I was left staring at my own reflection. Except now I wore a stable hand's outfit, as my father had—the high, tough boots, the dark tights, and white long-sleeved shirt.

Spreading my arms, I moved to check myself out fully in the mirror. I had to admit, I thought that the monster creature thing would've done something to stop that from happening—I was much more dangerous now that I could move about freely. "Why would it allow this?" I asked, lowly. "This is a big advantage for me, now. Why would it help me to defeat it?"

"Because it doesn't think that you _can_," Alex answers, matter-of-factly.

I lowered my brows, my anger and determination returning to me. "Well, then it's in for a pretty big surprise." My eyes scanned the room, then, and catching sight of my fallen over-gown, I grinned. I had an idea of how to bring my own personal flare to the outfit. "Do you happen to have a scissor?" I asked smoothly, turning to face Alex.

"All I have that is able to cut—" he shrugs. "—Is a dagger."

"That'll work," I answer quickly.

After Alex brings me his dagger, I pick up my frosted blue dress and cut the wide sleeves down to where they fit tightly—about a quarter-length in—and I cut the whole thing down until it will fit as a snug homemade hoodie. It's a bit frayed and tattered at the cut edges but, hey, I think it suits me. Rolling up the long sleeves of my new stable hand wardrobe, I put on the hoodie, and take the old silver binding cord up from the floor. With Alex' help, I wrap the cord around myself, having it cling the fabric of the former dress/new jacket to my middle in a corset-like fashion.

In my new clothes, I feel as if I am glowing. And when I look to the mirror again, I notice that I am.

Alex nods approvingly. "You are ready," he smiles genuinely.

Turning to him, I return the gaze.

"Now, go and take whatever you need," Alex' face goes serious again. "The guards will be here any second."

My eyes are wide as saucers. "Guards?!" I ask in shock.

"Yeah," he nods nonchalantly. "They'll be here to take me away. No doubt they'll know you've been here at least, what with the light show and all.

I frowned. "Isn't there anything I can do to stop that?"

He shakes his head. "You have to save your energy for the monster. After you defeat it, _then _you may come free us if you like. Prisoners, to my knowledge, are usually held in the highest tower. Now go," Alex shoves me lightly. "You are wasting time that you do not have."

Quickly, I run about the stable collecting random items. When I was just about done, I swiftly grabbed the dagger I had been using before.

Alex glares in disapproval. "Sam," he says sternly. "The dagger will only anger anyone that gets in your path."

I purse my lips in slight annoyance as I place the dagger back down on the table.

"Now, this," Alex calls as he reaches behind him. "Will produce real damage." Grinning, he holds up a sword in a scabbard. He tosses it to me.

My eyes brimming with excitement, I catch the sheathed sword and put it around my waist. Pausing only for a moment, I walk over and wrap my arms around Alex in a big gratuitous embrace. "Thank you. And…good luck, Alex."

He smiles warmly down at me and pats me on the back. "To you, as well, Sam."

And then the inevitable knock sounds at the door.

I quickly run and hide under the wooden crate Alex had sat upon, receiving only a glance from him telling me to do so. He walks over and throws his old blanket over the crate, hiding me from view. I still have a small peephole to view from, though.

Alex opens the heavy wooden door. "Good evening, gentlemen. A bit late, isn't it?" he asks with a friendly smile.

"Don't lie to me, stable hand," Jake calls with a very unhappy expression on his face. "We know the girl's been here."

"Girl?" my ally asks, tilting his head. "What girl?

"He's playing games with us," Duke's deep angry voice accuses from the doorway.

"I assure you, I am not," Alex keeps his tone and expression steady. "I have nothing to hide," he says, extending his arms.

And it's true—what he has, has already _been_ hidden. I find myself smirking at his handling of the situation.

Jake grins at this. "Then you won't mind being sequestered," he says, an ill note sounding in his speech.

Alex returns the expression—he can easily see through any lie or sugarcoating Jake's just said. "Oh, you mean murdered."

Jake shrugs. "Both, really."

There's a pause. "Well, seeing as how I don't really have a choice here, I suppose I don't mind." Alex holds out his arms so that the guards can take hold of them easily without struggling. But just as they're leaving, Alex mouths something to me—it looks like "Fifteen minutes."

What's that mean—he wants me to wait fifteen minutes after they leave to get a move on?

When the door is slammed carelessly shut, the draft extinguishes any and all candles lit inside the barn. And I'm left in darkness—I can't light the candles again because the guards will notice and catch me.

Eventually, I decide that what I had assumed was exactly what Alex meant. And so, in the growing-steadily-colder atmosphere of the dark stable, I wait out my estimated fifteen minutes.

And then we're off. And I have to leave the safety of the barn.

As quietly as I can, I pry the door to the stable open and sneak out. The grounds are completely dark, except directly in front of the castle where torches are lit. Looks like something you might see on a Survivor show.

I purse my lips. I have to get back in there, but there are guards crawling all over the front entrance.

Looking to my left I see a field of tall grass. I'd never seen it before, and part of me wonders if it's just appeared out of my convenience—if it's another pitiful gift the monster's throwing at me. I glare, but I decide to use the new route anyway—there's no way I was going to be able to get through the front, and past the field of grass there was bound to be a less-obvious entrance to the castle. Or at least one where I wasn't totally outnumbered by guards and could easily clear with a little help from my new sword.

I begin to head through the grass, keeping my head low to the ground, but avoiding any collisions with any trees I pass on the way as well. The ground feels strange and unstable, but I continue onwards anyway, the floor squishing under my feet.

As I take another step, some thick mess spurts out of the ground. Uch, mud. I've probably stumbled into a marsh or something. Perfect.

Another three steps in, the ground spurts again, so high this time that whatever squirts out, hits my hands. I take a look at them. The stuff on my hands isn't brown, it's green—a dark, disgusting green like creamed spinach, only more sludgy than lumpy.

Suddenly, I realize that I feel shorter than normal. The ground is now up to my knees—I was sinking, and fast. Oh, great, quickgrass! I didn't even know something like that existed! (It probably didn't, in the real world.)

Counting my blessings, I grabbed the nearest thick, cold, deformed tree root that shot up out of the ground. I tried to pull myself up by it, but it wasn't working. Whether the tree root was too weak, or the pull of the quickgrass was too strong, I was still in the exact same position.

Finally, the tree root gave way, and the tree attached to it came shooting towards me. Only, it wasn't a tree at all.

It was the body of the woman who had been disguised as Mrs. Benson.

I worked my hardest not to scream, but my heart pounded in my chest as I shot backwards. The whole area was now sludge—there were no more solids to be found—well, not ones you could stand on.

At that moment, I took notice of the fact that I was not alone. I felt limbs underneath me—hands, feet, arms, legs—bony, fleshy, and cold. I felt faces sluggishly float by as I searched with my hands for a way out, the hair of corpses often getting tangled with my boots.

Despite how much I struggled and searched and tried not to scream, I was losing this battle. I was growing more horrified by the minute and a way out looked no more promising than it had in the last second. It was also very hard to swim in the sludge, and I was pretty sure I was going to die in the pool of bodies—the zone Alex had told me about.

Just then, a hand clasped around one of my flailing arms. I was so terrified, I didn't _care_ if I'd get a sword to the wrist for this, I threw my other arm up and began punching, and clawing, trying to tear the hand away from my arm.

And then another hand grasped around my fighting hand. And I had no choice but to give into my probable murderer's bidding, or else I would surely drown. Not that I wasn't going to anyway.

To my surprise, the figure with its grasp on my arms pulled me out of the muck, and laid me on the floor, just outside of the torchlight.

I heard the jingling of bells as apparent court jester "Gibby" leaned down to check that I was okay.

--

**AN: Whoa, that one took a long time to write. I really had fun on this one, and I hope you guys did, too. The ending was very creepy and very morbid. The idea came to me when mom, dad, and I were driving past this old landfill area, that had been covered over with fake grass. And for some reason I had really bad thoughts about what would happen if you stepped on that grass—I imagined pretty much what I wrote, especially because we knew from news stories that there were previously bodies dumped there. Uch. But anyway! Yes! Lots of answers here, and lots of advancement, I believe! Another two songs to add to the playlist: For the story in general, "Disturbia," by Rihanna, and for the scene with Sam's dad—who I've named Daniel Puckett, "He Lives In You," from the Broadway Cast of The Lion King. Pretty much it for now, guys! I look forward to seeing your reviews!**

**P.S. New iCarly episode announced, for those whom do not know—iThink They Kissed! Yes! It's official. I'm so very excited!**

**-Fictions**


	8. Chapter 8

Summary: Spencer purchases an old-fashioned mirror. What will happen when Sam discovers that the mirror is more than it seems?

Disclaimer: Maybe in the mirror world I own iCarly. But here in reality, I do not =( Dan Schneider does…

iWent Through the Glass: Chapter 8

"Who are you?" I demanded immediately, hacking up the horrible green sludge.

"I'm Gibby," the brightly dressed boy answered with something resembling a frown on his face.

"No," I wiped the back of my hand thoroughly across my mouth. "You're not." And then I stood, unsheathing my sword and pointing it towards the jester. "Now tell me who you really are."

Quickly standing, the boy backed up, his hands outstretched in a peaceful motion. "My name is Jacque!" he answered in a yelled whisper. "I am your ally! Please do not hurt me, ma'am." As he spoke, his features chipped away, revealing a slightly less-round face than Gibby's actual one. And his hair turned black, instead of the blonde of the disguise.

I glared, lowering my sword only slightly. "Why'd you help me out of the muck?"

"Because I am on your side, ma'am," he nods, somberly, slowly stepping closer. "I want you to be able to reach the mirror—to be able to return home and escape this place."

Raising an eyebrow, along with my sword, I questioned, "How could you know about that? I thought Alex said the only ones who have never forgotten were my dad, Tara, and he."

"That is true, ma'am. I _did_ forget," he says sadly as he looks down at the tip of my blade. "But once I witnessed your change—your forgetting, I myself remembered. Since then, Alex and I had been conversing over your situation." Suddenly, his face looks urgent. "But we have no time for that! You must go now!"

I shook my head, sheathing my sword again. For some reason, knowing that Alex trusted someone made him or her trustworthy in my book as well. "I don't get it—why do you care about me going home?"

"Because I want you to take the opportunity that I and so many of us never did."

I shrugged. "Wouldn't you want me to kill the monster, then? So this way you guys would be avenged and also have a possible way out?"

"Ma'am, not even _you_ will have a way out if you waste time here! You must hurry and get to the mirror!" yelled Jacque. "Besides, some of us don't even _want _to be saved. They don't remember the lives they've left, and even if they did…well," he sighs. "It is just a hopeless effort."

"_But he hid the mirror from me, just as he has from you. And by the time I found it—" _

Tara's words from before echoed in my mind, and I cast a suspicious glare on Jacque. "What would happen if I wasted time?"

"You would be too late!" Jacque practically yells. "Your world would cease being reflected in the mirror, and the connection between it and this dimension would be lost! You would be trapped here forever!"

My eyes go wide, face goes blank, and the cold breeze whips around me menacingly.

"I can lead you inside the back entrance of the castle," nods Jacque, already pushing me forward by the shoulder. "But you'll have to go the rest of the way on your own. The halls are filled with guards, and it would be suspicious to have a jester escort you to the mirror room."

I glared. "So you're gonna leave me to go it alone, huh?"

He frowns. "I'm sure you'll be fine by yourself, ma'am," Jacque says, glancing at my sword. "I am slow and weak—I would only be a liability to you."

Sighing, I accept the response and let him lead the way to the entrance of the castle.

"I wish you the best of luck," he nods. "Run as fast as you are able, and do not be afraid to use your weapon—remember, they only _look _like your friends."

Taking my sword from its scabbard, I nod once in determination. "Now go hide. I don't wanna have to rescue you, too, when this whole thing is over."

Gulping, Jacque waggles his head shakily, and runs off. With a crack of my knuckles, I'm already in a run towards the stairs.

I quickly slice through any enemies as I get to the appropriate floor, and I don't feel any remorse—if they look like my friends, they're my enemies, and they only want to hurt me. But if they look like a stranger, they're my allies. This world is so confusing, but there's no time to think about that now—I was on a stricter time limit than I thought.

As I try to figure out where I am and then begin to run to the room all the way opposite my bedroom, I take in the idea of just how wrong this world is. Not just _morally_ wrong, but generally incorrect. So far, I know that the monster posed as the girl Alex was in love with, Emily, and the boy Tara was in love with, Jonathan. It also posed as my mother for my father. It seems to take the form of whomever you love. But for me, it's disguised as Freddie. But that would mean that I--…

You see how wrong this world is, now, don't you?

…

Don't you?

Because I couldn't …you know. Could I? I mean, I wasn't exactly screaming in terror when I found out that "he and I" were together in this world (even though that was all a lie.) But that was only because this "Freddie" was different. I couldn't feel that way about the real one. But then why had I found myself _missing_ the real Freddie if I didn't?

Erg! This is no time to have an internal struggle!

I had been on "autopilot" during all that—a "the lights are on but nobody's home" deal. I was slashing whenever I had to, and somehow I had managed to keep running in the right direction, so when I finally flashed back to reality, I was standing right in front of the door I needed to go through.

The door seems bigger than the others in the castle, and as I take a deep breath and push through it, I discover that the room is darker than most of the others as well. There's only what appears to be one giant spotlight on the mirror I've been going crazy searching for. It illuminates the area around it, but the source is only one tall window. There's light shining through, obviously, but that doesn't make any sense because it's dark outside. Man, I can't wait to get out of this place…

Slowly, I approach the mirror. Inside I see a very faded—but still there—reflection of the iCarly studio and myself in my normal clothes.

Just as I'm about to reach the mirror, the monster, still as Freddie steps out from behind it. "Oh, Sam," he grins maliciously. "Did you really think it would be that easy?"

I glare. "Did you really think I would be that unprepared?" I ask rhetorically. And then my blade's in his chest.

The monster gasps and stumbles backward looking from me to the sword in its chest. Freddie's eyes water and he falls to his knees groaning and whining.

My glare doesn't disappear, but I do feel a sense of accomplishment pour through me.

Suddenly, Freddie's whimpers turn into laughter, and he stands up again. "Ah! Help me, help me!" he says, throwing his head around, grinning. Crossing his arms over his chest, he lets loose a fake sigh, the sword still in his middle. "Now, Sam, you're gonna have to do better than _that_." He easily yanks the blade out. Letting out a more relaxed and genuine breath, he saunters over to me.

I want to grab my blade back, but before he can reach me, he suavely tosses my only weapon aside. It slides across the floor and lands at the foot of the mirror.

"I knew that I'd find the one I would take solely as food," he smiles haughtily. "And I knew he or she would be defiant and strong-willed, just like you."

Its words, its tone—everything about it makes me nearly bubble over with anger, and I'm shaking with the adrenaline that I'm forced to hold back. My lip curls up over my teeth in disgust.

He takes a deep breath as he circles me. "I knew they would smell just like you." Then there's a pause as he comes to stand right in front of me again. "I knew their lips would taste just as yours do," he whispers out and forcefully kisses me.

I roughly shove him back with a snarl. "Are you actually gonna challenge me, or are you just gonna stand there making pitiful attempts to scare me?" I grind out.

"Pitiful attempts?" he asks, chuckling. "I _am _scaring you. Don't even try to deny it. I can taste your every emotion on the air." He looks me over as he takes in another deep breath. "Fear is one I'm quite familiar with. And it tastes delicious." The sickening malicious grin is back on his face. "It's all in truth, you know."

Through my gritted teeth, I growl out. "What are you?" I notice that it's becoming harder to form intelligent sentences—I can tell that my rage and every other emotion coursing through me are quickly blinding me.

"I am many things and yet I am only one thing," he answers.

I roll my eyes. "_That's_ easy to understand," I reply sarcastically.

The monster scoffs at this. "You're one to talk," he shakes his head. "Curiosity lured you here, that much I know. But _what _reason did you have to stay?" he asks, circling me again. "Was it the love of the boy you practically already had back home?" And then he's back in front of me with a smirk on his face, leaning in close as he mockingly asks, "Or was it the offer of a meal that I knew you couldn't possibly deny?"

That's it. I can't hold it anymore. Letting out a primal roar, I punch him in the face sending him straight to the floor. Uncontrollably, I begin to kick at his side. "I will knock you sideways, you son of a bitch!" I scream, not even worrying about watching my tongue. "Let me go! Let me go!" I repeat. "Let me out of this nightmare!!!" Because that's what all this has to be. God, it's so horrible that it just _can't_ be real—monsters, magic, people from different parts of history, pools of corpses—it all has to be a dream.

But then he grabs hold of my leg and yanks me to the floor.

I hit my head. Hard. And I can feel blood begin to trickle through my hair.

Before I can react, the monster has me pinned to the floor. "This is _no_ dream," he whispers out as blood falls from his lips to my face. My eyes focus on his mouth, where more blood lingers and drips from—blood of variations of color and textures; the blood of thousands of others. "This place is real. You can live here—" he stands. "—You can eat here—" he starts to walk, as I try desperately to get up. "—You can sleep here—" he reaches down and grabs my sword. "—You can bathe here." He pauses and looks to me as I try hopelessly to pry myself off the ground. "You can _die_ here." He looks to the glass and then turns back to me. "The only thing you _can't_ do—" the monster gives me a slight tilt of Freddie's head. "—Is leave." And then the face of the mirror collides with the hilt of the sword. It shatters into a million pieces.

I stare; my mouth agape, and I try to come up with anything that will convince the monster to bring the mirror back—if that was even possible. "You're only hurting yourself like that! Now you can't bring anymore victims in."

He chuckles, gripping my chin and pulling me, from it, into a sitting position. "I can always make another one," he says, shaking his head. "Besides, with all the energy I'm going to get from you, I won't be needing more for a _long time_." His eyes flash, as he smirks.

Angrily, I pull his hand away from my chin.

Laughing again, he stands upright, and then his eyes go wide with surprise. "Well, what do you know—it looks like we have some unexpected company," he walks to the door. "I'll have to attend to that. Now, you be a good girl, Sammy, and stay put." And then he leaves the room, locking the door from the outside behind him.

I'm not sure how someone else arrived into this world with the mirror broken, but they did. And I wasn't going to let anyone else become a victim.

After a few minutes, I was able to stand by myself. Unfortunately, the monster took my sword, but I had something much more useful.

I walked to the door and gripped a small metal object that I had taken from Alex' stable. Holding it between my fingers, I examined it and grinned.

And then I picked the lock. Taking off as stealthily as I could towards my bedroom, my thoughts raced back to the gang back home.

How were they all doing? _What _were they all doing?

Spencer, Carly, and…

--

**AN: It's great to finally be back! We have Chapter 8 people! =D I hope you liked that. Isn't the monster just peachy? You may be wondering why I've ended the chapter the way I have—in mid-sentence. Well, let's just say, next chapter will be fun and different—very fun and different indeed. Anyway, as for playlist additions! I've picked the song "Amaranth," by Nightwish for the part where Sam first runs through the castle to now. The soft bit of it takes place where she picks the lock. And the rest of it takes place where we are now, while she's racing back through the castle =) Again, I hope you all enjoyed! I'm very thankful for all your reviews you've left thus far, and I cannot wait to hear what you guys think about this chapter! Granted it was more PG than the other chapters XD But things **_**have**_** been turning up a notch with the story. Anyway, that's all for now! **

**-Fictions**


	9. Chapter 9

Summary: Spencer purchases an old-fashioned mirror. What will happen when Sam discovers that the mirror is more than it seems?

Disclaimer: I love iCarly, but sadly, I do not own it u.u That right goes to the AMAZING Dan Schneider!

iWent Through the Glass: Chapter 9

_...Freddie._

I was pacing the floor of the iCarly studio while fidgeting with my hands, nervously. Carly, however, was sitting calmly in a beanbag chair, reading some glamour magazine, lollipop in hand. "I don't like this, Carly," I call disrupting the silence of the room.

Carly laughs. "Will you relax?" she asked just before she rolled her eyes. "Look, Sam just _does_ this from time to time, okay?" She shrugs. "She disappears for like, a day, and then she comes back good as new. I think it's some sort of therapeutic thing for her—just getting away from it all, you know?"

"No I _don't_ know!" I yell back, still pacing. "And I don't like this one bit!"

"You're _awfully_ nervous about her," comments Carly dully. Her eyes are still on her magazine, and she sticks her lollipop in her mouth to free her hand so she can turn the page. She again, nonchalantly grips the candy.

I stop pacing, facing her and shrug. "So?"

"Why?" she asks expressionlessly.

My eyebrows furrow in confusion. "Why what?"

"Why are you so nervous about her?"

"Because she's my _friend_!"

"_Ahuh_," Carly answers, again with her eyes on the page. But even without her looking up it's easy to tell she just rolled her eyes.

I glare at Carly—something I never would have done a year ago. "What's that supposed to mean?" I ask angrily.

"Nothing," she shrugs.

"Good."

"Just that I can't wait for either one of you to stop being stubborn and just admit you _like_ each other already."

My eyes go wide. "What?" I shout. But a blush creeps onto my cheeks and begins to give away my newly surfacing feelings for my friend and coworker—feelings I never wanted to admit to, and until recently, never even knew existed. "We don't like each other!"

"_Ahuh_," Carly answers again dully as she flips another page.

"We don't!"

"_Ahuh._"

I feel my face heat up to an unbearable degree and then I'm not even in control anymore. I'm just listening as my words pour out. "Stop "_ahuh_"ing me!" I yell. "We don't _like_ each other! It was just a kiss, okay?!"

Carly's eyes snap up to me. "What?!" she asks, immediately standing, the magazine and lollipop flying out of her grasp and into the wall.

My face falls, and cheeks heat unbearably—impossibly—hotter. Suddenly, I'm in control again. Perfect, my brain decides to let me back in at the worst moment possible. "It was just a…" I pause, dragging out the "a". "Dis…oh…tay…Disotay—an Indian tribe from…the…Indian Encyclopedia." I nod, averting my gaze from Carly's. My face feels as if it's going to explode. "And I gave Sam one on…Encyclopedia Day."

Carly runs to me and grabs my shoulders, shaking me. I'm forced to look into her eyes and I've never been more afraid of her than I am at this moment. "You said, "kiss," I heard "kiss," I know you said, "kiss."

"No I didn't!" I yell, but there's really no point in lying now. All my blood is going to my cheeks, and if I keep this up, my heart won't have enough to keep beating.

"You kissed Sam!" she shouts, grinning wildly, ignoring my denial.

"No I didn't—she kissed me!" I yelled, countering.

Carly shot me a look of disbelief. "No she didn't."

After a pause, I rolled my eyes and groaned. "Okay, we kissed _each other_."

She lets out a high-pitched squeal and throws her arms around me, pulling me into a tight hug.

I realize I don't enjoy this contact in the same way that I used to. Odd. I have no urge to cling or hold her in place. I'm not afraid of letting her go. Huh.

"I'm so happy for you!" she shouts when she pulls back.

I shake my head in annoyance. "Well don't be! 'Cause it didn't mean anything." I shrugged. "We just kissed to get our "first kisses" out of the way."

Carly laughed and waved a hand in dismissal. "Oh, Freddie, that's the stupidest lie I've ever heard."

"It's _not_ a_ lie_!" I bellow, though I find even myself in disbelief of my own words.

A pause. "Oh," she says slowly, in embarrassment, now averting _her _gaze. "Alright. Well, then I guess it's okay to tell you that I snagged her a date with Gary Wolff for this Saturday."

"You _what_?" I question in outrage.

Carly jumps, and lands in a very-Spencer pose, pointing and grinning. "You _do_ care! Oh, Freddie," she giggles. "Thank goodness you're horrible at keeping secrets."

I glare. "Hey! I am _not_—"

She cuts me off. "Sh-sh-sh!" Her index finger waves in the air. "I'm getting us some celebratory fruit kabobs." And then she bounces out of the room.

Groaning, I throw my hands into the air and cast a glance toward the ceiling. Why does this stuff have to happen to me? Why do I have to be in these situations? I'm a good person!

A voice in my head that sounds very much like Sam's speaks at this moment. It says, "_Oh, just admit it and get it over with, Freddie!_"

My normal mental voice responds as the majority of myself feels: "_Admit __**what**__?_"

I can almost picture the Sam-voice smirking at this point. "_That you loooove her._"

Rolling my eyes and shaking my head, I snap myself out of my thoughts.

Once again, I begin to pace the room, but I stop when I see my reflection in the mirror. I stare at it in perplexity; it's not my face I see in there—it's Sam's! And she's wearing a dress! That's…new…

…

No, Freddie, this is not the time to get distracted, get a hold of yourself.

Sam's acting as my reflection—my face is scrunched in confusion and so is hers, if I tilt my head then so does she.

"Carly?" I called in an unsure voice.

"I'll be up in a minute!" she shouted back, practically singing.

I rolled my eyes, Sam, in the mirror, following along accordingly. Slowly, with a cautious expression etched into my face, I moved my hand closer to the glass.

Sam watched me with the same guarded look in her eyes, her matching hand also slicing through the air slowly forward to meet mine.

But our hands never touched—they passed through each other; through the glass.

Sharing a frantic worried expression, I looked back to the studio door. "Carly! I really think you should have a look at this!" My hand was stuck aimlessly inside the liquid face of the mirror—well, it wasn't really liquid. It felt more like what an egg yolk feels like, if you've ever touched a raw one—runny. My fingers stretched uncontrollably from behind it, through the cold, semi-solid matter.

And then some warm wet rolled over my wrist—cascaded over it like a lava flow. I looked back to my arm to see a slowly pooling waterfall of blood washing down from the top of the mirror. It completely covered Sam's figure, causing it to appear crimson. Her face no longer reflected mine. It was, instead, frozen in a look of fear as the wave of blood became heavier, successfully hiding her from view.

A gasp is heard from the door, and the shattering of a plate. "Freddie!" Carly calls. "What did you _do_?"

"Me?!" I yell back in distress—especially since something began yanking on my mirror-trapped hand. "How could I _possibly_ do this?!"

"I don't know!" Carly shouted back in horror. "Just stop it!"

"I can't!" I said, groaning as I was yanked further in, the mirror's face now up to my elbow. "Carly, this thing's pulling me in!"

"Well pull back!" she yells, grabbing my arm, ready to tug on me if the need be.

"No, I think we have to go in!" I answer. "Sam was in there and—"

"In the mirror?!" Carly cuts me off.

"I know, it sounds crazy!" I shout. "But I think she's in trouble! We gotta go in after her!"

There was a pause, and Carly's grip loosened on my arm. Her logical part of her brain was probably duking it out with everything else right now. I have to admit I was shocked at how quickly _I _had accepted the circumstances we now found ourselves in. It was completely absurd, and yet, I was all for it. I was both ready and willing to instantly go through with whatever we had to, to make sure that Sam was okay.

"Okay!" Carly's answer sounds, throwing me out of my thoughts. And suddenly, she's pushing on me, rather than pulling.

And then I was sent through the glass, landing in a crouch on the old fashioned stone floor. But as I stood, I discovered I was alone, in a bedroom with a bed that was un-made (something my mom would flip over) and a gold candlestick lying randomly on the floor.

Looking around the room, I walked toward the one lone window in the area. Peeking my head outside, I saw that I was definitely in a castle—a Medieval one, judging by the structure—but the surroundings weren't quite so nice. There was a stable, what looked to be a swamp, and seemingly nothing else but meadow for who knows how long. Really odd—there should've at least been some sort of town or marketplace nearby, but I didn't see anything.

Just then, the wooden door to the messy bedroom opened. "Prince Freddie!"

I spun around to see Carly in a red velvet gown. "Whoa," I said, completely shocked for a moment. "Carly, what are you--?"

"Carly?" she asked with a giggle. "Don't you mean 'Princess Carly'?" She strolled towards me and gripped my waist, looking me deep in the eyes with a contented sigh.

I glared—none of this was right and I knew immediately that I was being tricked. "No. You're not Carly at all. You're the thing that's got Sam stuck here, aren't you?"

The girl I knew couldn't be Carly paused. "Why would you care so much for Sam," she began. "When I can give you all that you want?"

"What I _want_," I replied angrily. "Is for Sam to be free."

"Oh, I see," she smirked, her voice dropping slightly deeper on the last word. "There's been a change." The beautiful brown of Carly's hair began to pour from her roots, and drip to the floor like mud, leaving light curls in its wake. Her red dress began to darken, as if it were bruising, until the whole thing now was only pitch black. "You are _one_ indecisive boy, aren't you?" she asked, her cheekbones falling slightly, and the brown of her eyes swirling until it became blue. "No matter. I know what you _really _desire."

The girl, or whatever it was, had morphed into Sam's figure.

"Why don't you just—" she began as she marched me in my shock to the bed and sat me down, gently. "—Relax. Relax and forget." And then she leaned closer. My eyes followed her lips as they slowly neared mine, her eyes closing in comfort.

BANG!

And suddenly, the girl's eyes widened in shock, and then closed as she fell to the ground unconscious.

Behind her, wielding the fallen gold candlestick and a disgusted look stood another Sam—one in tall boots, dark tights, and what looked to be almost the top-half of the dress she was wearing when I saw her in the mirror. It was the _real_ Sam.

And then, still frozen and silent in shock, I looked to the ground—the girl was no longer a girl. It had my facial structure, but Sam's curls, and Carly's brunette hair. What _was_ that thing?!

"_Benson_?" Sam's voice called in surprise. And I looked up to find her staring at me with wide eyes.

Apparently, I had a lot of explaining to do.

But so did she.

--

**AN: Well, it took a long time, but chapter 9 is here =) Hope I did okay with the change of perspective. There isn't really much here to say except I'm very glad to be back, and I can't wait to once again hear your feedback! Oh, and honestly? I had this reveal of the kiss to Carly written out since like, when I started writing this story XD So I didn't even KNOW about iThink They Kissed. I see the future! Hahaha!**

**-Fictions**


	10. Chapter 10

Summary: Spencer purchases an old-fashioned mirror. What will happen when Sam discovers that the mirror is more than it seems?

Disclaimer: Hey, what site is this? …Yeah, that should pretty much tell you that I don't own iCarly.

iWent Through the Glass: Chapter 10

"What are you doing here?" I asked. I was perplexed—completely confused—but my voice came off more as angry. It always did when I was talking to Freddie.

"Uh," he began with narrowed eyes, obviously offended at my tone. "I came here to help you. You can at least _try_ to be nice, you know."

I scoffed, sending the dork a sarcastic smile. "Thanks for your "concern," _Fredweird_, but I don't need any help." My shoulders rose and fell in a loose shrug. "Looks like you got yourself stuck here for no reason."

"Really," he asks—no, says, in plain disbelief. "Sam, you've been missing for a day."

"_Might_ wanna check your calendar again, dork. It's been much longer than that."

One of his eyebrows quirks up. "No it hasn't."

"Well, _here_, it has," I replied with a roll of my eyes.

Freddie paused and then shook his head, not even bothering to question what I'd said. "Well, if you've been here for so long, then you really need help"

My eyes narrowed into a glare. "No, I don't. I've been doing just fine here by myself."

"Oh, yeah," he nods. "I can see that, what with the fact that you're still apparently trapped here with no way out."

My glare tightened. "I'm _working on it_!"

"Yeah, and it's taking you _days_! You're going nowhere!" he fires back.

"That's not my fault!" I yell. "You don't know what it's _like_ here, Benson!"

"Then tell me about it!" he shouts back.

"Alright, you wanna _hear_ about the jank I've been through?!" I scream. "I'll _tell_ you about it! I've seen people die, their faces shattering right in front of me, I've been betrayed by people who look like my friends, I've had _to kill_ people, I've swam with corpses, I've had _head trauma_—!"

Freddie already looks scared. Yeah, that wimp can't handle _half_ the stuff I've been through.

"Yeah, that's not even the worst part of it!" I go on to say. "_Worst_ of all, I had to _kiss_ a—"

But then I realize his frightened eyes aren't looking at me—they're looking_ behind_ me.

And before I can turn around, two _huge tentacles_ grab him and me. Or maybe they were vines, because they had razor-sharp thorns sticking from them.

I couldn't move much, and I couldn't speak—the vine-tentacle thing was clamped over my mouth and one giant black thorn lay fatally close to my throat—but I saw that the monster had obviously gotten up. Because we were now being held with what must've been its arms, being that they were protruding from its shoulders.

Angrily, it rushed us back to the room with the broken mirror and threw us inside. With a tight glare aimed in my direction, it spoke in a horrendous voice that was a fittingly monstrous combination of Freddie, Carly, and my voices. "Since you are so _crafty_," it said, narrowing its Freddie-eyes. "I suppose I'll have to suspend you and your little friend in here with something more _extreme._" And then he exited the room, locking the door.

We both ran to the entryway, and I gripped the tiny metal object from before, and instantly began working on the lock.

"Oh, no, no, no," the monster called disapprovingly from the other side. "This time," its voice smirked. "I'll seal it with a kiss." And like it said, we heard the sound of a kiss on the doorframe. The lock glowed red from the inside, and I pulled my hand away immediately—it _burned_!

Suddenly, the lock melts in on itself. It cools quickly, becoming nothing but solid metal—nothing but a dead-end. And with that, the monster truly had sealed our fates with a kiss.

"Well," I say after a moment of silence. "Great rescue attempt, Fredwimp, remind me to never call you if I'm trapped in a burning building."

He glares at me. "Remind _me_ to never call _you_ at all."

I roll my eyes.

So, we were stuck together for only about a minute. And _already _at each other's throats. At this rate, we probably had a better chance of killing each other before the monster had a chance to suck our life force away from us.

We sat in silence for a while. But strangely, though it was awkward, it was sort of comforting—familiar. As much as I hate to admit it, I felt safer with Freddie there. The previously cold, dark cell suddenly seemed warmer, and brighter, as if it were being illuminated by a dim night-light.

I snorted as my thoughts stumbled upon the remembrance of Freddie's need for a night-light.

"What?" he calls from the wall he leaned on, exactly diagonal of me.

"Nothing," I actually said kindly, shaking my head with a laugh and a crooked smile.

"What?" he questioned again.

This time, I responded in annoyance. "_Nothing_," I glared, my words almost literally biting. "Just thinking about how much of a nerd you are!"

"Uch! You know _what_, Sam?"

"_What_, Benson?"

"I'm sick of your attitude! You'd better start being nicer or, I swear, I'll—"

"You'll _what_?" I asked, cutting him off. "Leave? Go home? You don't really have too many options here, Fredwad!" I paused before silently adding. "Neither do I. I don't like this any more than you do." But some strange feeling deep down inside told me that that wasn't true. I'd taken to staring at the floor in frustration, trying to understand my own emotions.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Freddie staring at me with this wounded and concerned look on his face. But I didn't understand his use of the expression at all.

As soon as I looked up at him, his eyes fled my gaze and he sighed. "What _was_ that thing that trapped us here?"

I groaned and rolled my eyes. Leave it to the dork to question the obvious. "What do you _think_, Benson?" I asked coldly. "It's a monster that traps you here by looking like the person you're in lo--…"

But I'd broken off too late. I'd said too much and Freddie was staring at me with this blank sort of look—the same one he'd worn on the night that we shared our first kiss when he was concerned about whether it was the right thing to do or not.

No words can describe how much I wished I could rewind time at that second. I suddenly felt my cheeks begin to burn, and I bit down on them to stifle my unreasonable forming blush.

Finally, he speaks. "Why did it look like me to you?" he asks simply.

Why couldn't he have just changed the subject? Arg, there's no getting out of talking about this now! _I _can't change the subject—_I _never falter from a conversation. Just because he'd caught me in a rough spot didn't mean—Hey, _wait_ a minute. "Better question—why did it look like _me_ to you?"

Freddie gulps, looking off and back at me nervously. "I asked you first!" he shouts.

The pieces fall together and he's not even willing to deny them. I go for the mocking approach and shake my head, scoffing. "I _knew_ you were jealous of Jonah when we were dating."

"I was _not_ jealous!" he fires back.

"You're _lying_, dork!" I shout. And then, the examples just came pouring out. "You were jealous of Jonah, you were jealous when I liked Shane, and you tried to take my attention away from _Carter_ when I liked _him, too_! You're jealous of every guy I end up having a thing for!"

"Okay, you wanna call me jealous? _Fine_!" he yelled angrily. "What about _you_, then?"

I glared threateningly. Where was the dork going with this? "What are you talking about?"

"You've _always_ been jealous of Carly because of my crush on her!"

The accusation hit me like a ton of bricks.

And then he began his own list of examples. "Always rolling your eyes when I try to pay her any sort of compliment, putting me down _every single time_, insulting me non-stop!"

I'd never thought of it that way, but suddenly Freddie didn't seem so far off.

"So, what are you going to do?" he asks, still yelling in the rage of the banter. "Are you going to keep denying it or just admit to it and—"

"So what if I am," I whisper, still a little shocked at myself, and cutting Freddie off.

He stops and stares me over silently. "What?" he finally asks.

"So what if I am," I repeat, louder now, nodding between my words. Was it possible to be jealous of someone without even _knowing_ you were?

Freddie freezes. The color drains from his face and he's suddenly just as quiet as I am. "So what if _I_ am?"

Our arguing had brought us dangerously close, but I only noticed that as our lips brushed each other's. But then, it was as if a force were pushing us together, and we had no choice but to hold one another, to gladly accept our fate that we were joined at the lips.

Now, we're not being pushed anymore. We're holding onto each other, desperately. We _need_ this contact, but we grip in fear, as if something were going to pull us apart.

But then, something did. At that moment, I remembered something the monster said when it had taken my form and was coaxing Freddie to forget: _"You are _one _indecisive boy, aren't you?"_

As if on cue, we heard a shrill human scream/animalistic roar, and the lock snapped outside the door. And just like that lock to the door, we were broken apart as well.

I'm still in shock, and so is he, and we're just standing there, staring at each other. What just _happened_? But my memory soon catches up to me and sends me into a cacophony of emotions—first urgent, then hurt. He _still _had feelings for Carly, and yet he was here kissing me. Glaring, I shove Freddie to the floor. "I'm _not_ going to be your second best."

And that's when I storm out the now-open door. Freddie's almost instantly running right behind me. "Sam, wait!" he calls.

Without stopping, I shout back, "We're partners working on this together, Freddie. But that's it."

My father's voice whispers in my ear that I should trust Freddie. And…truthfully? Deep down, I kind of think I should, too.

But I was too stubborn, too callus, too guarded—

--Too afraid of change and too doubting to listen to wiser words right now.

--

**AN: Short chapter is short! But I really hope you guys enjoyed it regardless =) I was actually nervous about this one, and I'm not sure why…hmm. Well, that's basically it for now. I hope I can get Chapter 11 up on time, but something tells me it's gonna be late…well, we'll see. Anyway, again, hope you enjoyed! And thank you to all those who have read, reviewed, faved, etc. thus far! I'd love to see your feedback on this stuff! Until next time! ^^**

**-Fictions**


	11. Chapter 11

Summary: Spencer purchases an old-fashioned mirror. What will happen when Sam discovers that the mirror is more than it seems?

Disclaimer: Knock, knock. Who's there? Pitiful attempt at saying I don't own iCarly. Pitiful attempt at saying I don't own iCarly who? …That question doesn't make any sense…

iWent Through the Glass: Chapter 11

Of course I was walking in the wrong direction.

Well, no, actually I had no idea _where_ we were supposed to be going, but I was willing to bet that back towards my bedroom was not it. No matter, though—what was done, was done, and there wasn't any turning around. Not in this story.

But what had freed us? Why had the monster screamed? Why had the lock snapped?

Freddie was quieter than he'd ever been, probably assuming that this wasn't the time to talk to me. Smart boy. As much as I hated it, he knew me really well—knew, for the most part, what to do, and what not to do around me; what would set me off and what would shut me up.

During the silence, I thought back on my experience in the mirror world. I remembered Tara, and her story about the unattainable boy, Jonathan. I now realized why it was that I felt that I could relate to her so strongly. Because as cheesy as it sounded, the unattainable person in my story was standing right next to me.

But we all had a seemingly unattainable someone here, didn't we? Alex had Emily, my dad had my mom, and even Freddie had—

I turned to stare at Freddie who had moved up to walking by my side. He looked to me frowning, as if in disapproval of my thoughts.

Nobody here got a happy ending. It just wasn't possible; they never had a chance. Still, I couldn't help but wonder what would happen if someone here _had_.

Again, I glanced at Freddie. His arrival had changed everything. Suddenly, I did have a chance. But…

Maybe Freddie really _did_ have feelings for me. Maybe he really _did _get over Carly. But maybe he didn't. Maybe he was just moving onto me because he finally got tired of Carly's rejection and needed a fallback.

Deep down, my thoughts told me that I was being unrealistic—that by thinking that, I was shaping Freddie into more of an actual boy than he was. A snobby know-nothing jerk would do that, but Freddie…

Still, desperation did weird things to people. And I wasn't willing to let my heart take that step that might either allow it to soar freely and ecstatically as it should, or cause it to plummet through a trap-hole in the ground, making it free-fall in a bottomless pit for the rest of eternity.

Whoa I'm thinking too much again. We're already in my room and I didn't even realize we walked inside.

"What are we doing back in here?" Freddie asks, confusion evident in his tone.

Oh, great, why couldn't I have thought about how to answer _that_? "To get new weapons." Yeah. That should be good enough for him. "In case you didn't notice, I'm kinda unarmed. That thing stole my sword."

His eyes widened for a moment and he paused—probably thinking about the horrors of me wielding a blade. Shaking himself out of his trance, Freddie looked around the room. "All I see is that candlestick you used before…"

"Good. You can use that, then," I said as I walked towards the window, in an attempt to see just how far from lovely the mirror world now was.

"What will you use?" he asked after a bit of silence. Oh, Fredward, sometimes, you just make this too easy.

I shrugged. "You."

He was shocked and confused. "Me?"

"Yeah. If an enemy with a sword comes by, I'll pull you in front of me so that you can act as a shield. And if—"

"That's not funny, Sam," he glared as he interrupted me.

"No, but your face is." I just couldn't resist the jab.

His face twisted in anger. "That—" but he broke off, probably not having anything to say, his finger still pointed at me. Balling his hands into fists, Freddie let out a loud groan.

"Yeah, good idea," I said sarcastically. "Let the guards know where we are so they can come and kill us faster."

Silently, he replied, "No one heard me."

"Well, why don't you try it again?" I rolled my eyes. "See if we get lucky this time."

Freddie glared right back at me, but I just nodded and turned right around to face the window. Everything I'd seen—everything that had changed since I'd been here—was there. There was what looked like a marsh, but what I knew better as the sea of corpses. There was Alex' horseless stable. And then there was something I _hadn't_ seen before.

It was a black stone fortress, thin and much taller than the castle itself. Around it was a ring of blood-red light. Blood—seemingly a recurring motif in these parts. Black smoke rolled off the top of the fortress like fog.

"Whoa," I said, still appraising the place with my eyes. "I'm thinkin' that's where we need to go."

"What makes you say that?" Freddie asks from behind me.

"Look?" I moved over slightly to make room for him.

He moved into the space I made, though it was still cramped. "Yeah," Freddie said in the voice he specifically reserved for when he was scared. "Looks just about right."

"If I may," called a familiar voice. "I've brought a weapon for you, ma'am."

As I turned around, I saw that it was Jacque, carrying Alex' dagger. "Jacque!" I shouted as I ran over and gripped the knife. "What are you doing here?"

"While I was running away before, I realized it wasn't very noble of me at all. So, I decided to assist you, ma'am," he bowed his head with respect. "I raced back to Alex' barn and grabbed the weapon for you. Once I made it back to the castle, though, I saw you walking here with the boy."

"You're 'ma'am,' but I'm '_the boy_'?" Freddie asked, offended.

"Be quiet, Fredwardo, let the guy talk," I scorned.

He rolled his eyes and Jacque continued. "I decided not to call out to you for fear of attracting guards. Were you able to find the mirror in time?"

"Yeah," I said hesitantly, rubbing my neck and averting eye contact. "But it's sort of…broken now."

"_Broken_?" Jacque cried in distress.

"Relax!" I commanded. "We're working on finding another way out."

"There _is_ no _other way_—" Jacque began before cutting short. "We?" he asked after a moment of awkward silence.

"Yeah," my voice was perplexed-sounding. "Me and Freddie," I said, gesturing between us.

The jester boy gasped. "_He's_—?" Again he stopped short. Jacque began to nod. "Yes. Yes you certainly will find a way out, now."

I raised my eyebrow at him, and gave Freddie a chance to speak. "Uh," he sounded just as confused as I was. "Thanks for the sudden confidence…"

"You can slay the creature!" he called. "Love is its weakness! It is why we are still stuck here—we were deprived from it. But, now, we have you two!"

Freddie doesn't deny any of what's going on. I glare and speak up, not for myself, but for him. "No, he doesn't love me. He's just settling for me because he's tired of getting shot down by my friend."

"Sam!" he calls, sounding and looking offended.

"Sir," Jacque begins, looking at Freddie. "Why did you enter this world?"

Freddie shrugs, still looking hurt. "Because I saw Sam in the mirror instead of my reflection. She looked like she was in trouble and I wanted to help her."

I'm a little shocked, but I don't let that show. I just roll my eyes. "Big deal. Carly probably would've seen me, too, had she looked into the mirror."

There's a long pause, and Jacque's sudden sadness brings the energy of the whole room down. The jester stared at the floor, frowning.

"Wait!" Freddie calls with a snap of his fingers. "No, she wouldn't. And she _didn't_, because earlier, she was fixing her hair in that mirror! She saw _herself_!"

"You see?!" Jacque asks, bouncing with content again. "Reluctant as you both are to admit it, it is true!" He beams, pausing, looking between us. "You two…are in love."

The candles in the room suddenly flare to life, and the ground rumbles and shakes. Outside the piercing cry of the creature is heard, and the mission is once again fresh in our minds.

No one says anything. Jacque is still almost literally shaking with happiness, and Freddie and I are quiet. But I can't take that step. I'm being pushed toward the ledge, and sure, I can't walk away, but I sure as heck can push right back. "_No_, I'm_ not_."

"Pardon?" I seem to have shocked Jacque as he looks up to me, blinking.

"I said, I'm not," I repeat. "I'm not in love with the stupid dork and I wish everyone would stop saying that I am."

"Stupid _dork_?" Freddie asks as he moves to stand in front of me. His tone is on the brink of angry and his expression is clearly offended. "What, is it embarrassing to actually admit that you're in love with me?"

"It _would_ be, if I _was. _But I'm not!" I shout, getting up in his face. "So right now, it's just _really_ irritating. But what else is new with you?"

"Stop! You two, stop!" Jacque calls. I think I see something smoky rise through the window but I put it aside. We're too deep in arguing to care about that right now.

"Oh, _I'm_ irritating? _I'm_ embarrassing?" Freddie asks rhetorically.

"If the _nubby name _fits, _Fredward_. And in this case, I think it does," I fire back.

"Please!" yells Jacque. "Please stop! This is very bad!" The lights are flickering around us now, but again, we can't stop.

"This coming from the girl who was trapped inside a _mirror_!" Freddie shouts. "A girl who eats nothing but fatcakes and meat and scrapes her _feet_ everywhere and spends her time making fun of other people who've done _nothing wrong to her_!"

"Oh, I'm sorry!" I yell sarcastically. "I didn't realize that getting tic-baths every Tuesday constituted as something _unembarrassing_!"

"Ahh!!!" Jacque seems to be struggling—good for him, little guy's got to build some muscle. Let him take care of whatever's going on.

"That's not even a word!" Freddie shouts. "And you don't even know what "constitute" _means_!"

"Sure I do!"

"What's it mean, then?"

"Something much more interesting than you!"

"I _swear_, Sam—!"

"_What_, Fredwimp?"

"I can't _stand _you!"

Again the ground shakes, and I can hear Jacque whimper in the background. But it's way too late to give up now—I have to fire back.

"The _feeling's mutual_! Finally we've got some _truth _around here!"

Lightning and thunder strike, the candles all go out, and our attention is at last broken from our fight. Looking around, I see we're surrounded by black fog. It has Jacque restrained and he's suddenly pulled out of the window by it.

Simultaneously, Freddie and I gasp as the shadow fog seems to form bodies—bodies with armor and weapons; shadow soldiers.

And easy as that, we're surrounded. "Look what you did, dork!" I yell over the booming thunder and pounding rain that's just started.

"What are you talking about?! This is your fault! _You _started the fighting!"

"Oh, ya always gotta blame _me_, huh, Benson?"

"Because it always _is_ you!" he shouts. "Why don't you just come out and admit to it for once!"

With that, even more shadow soldiers appear.

"You made it worse, Benson!" Not that he's wrong, but I'll never admit to it. So, I settled with the next best thing—stating the obvious and making him shut up.

Freddie whines. "What are we supposed to do?"

"What do you _think_?" I ask. "We've gotta _fight_!" And then I slice through a soldier with my dagger.

"What good did that do? It just reformed!"

"_But_," I emphasize. "It gives us enough time to run to someplace safer! Now, fight and follow me!"

It takes Freddie a bit of time, but soon, he's bashing shadows with the candlestick and following close behind. We make it out of the castle in almost no time.

"Seize them!" calls Shane, and at that moment, the regular security crew—Shane, Jake, and Duke—plus one (Gary Wolff) joins us.

I scoff and shake my head. From one obstacle to the next. "Alright, bring it, you fudgebags. We can take you on."

As if hearing my challenge, a new foe emerges—the bodies from the pool of corpses are rising from their mucky graves and are coming toward us.

Freddie's in shock and it takes me a second to respond. "Zombies?!" I shout in disbelief. "What is this, Resident Evil?!"

An echoing laugh is heard above us. Guess the monster has a sense of humor. A sick and twisted sense of humor, but still, a sense of humor.

Freddie begins to ramble. "Actually, they're not zombies. Zombies act on their own accord, and I don't think that's what these are doing," he geekishly states. "Plus, zombies really only go after your brains, and I have a feeling—"

"Who cares what they are, they're trying to kill us, let's go!!!" I shout three sentences in one.

Gripping Freddie's hand, we run straight into the familiar stable.

"Help me close the doors!" I bark. It wasn't a request, it was a command—I'd gone straight into drill sergeant mode.

As quick as we could, we shut the heavy wooden doors and barricaded them with crates and other supplies.

The creatures and guards still banging at the doors outside, we slid to the floor panting and tired on opposite sides of the stable.

Suddenly, the safest place I had known in the mirror world had become our cage.

--

**AN: Whoa, sorry this one took so long, you guys. I've been crazy busy around here, so, yeah =/ Hopefully I'll get the next chapter out by Friday, but no guarantees. This one took particularly long because originally, I wrote a much more…cheesy ending, I suppose. But I absolutely loved redoing it to get this one. Felt really accomplished when it was over. Poor Jacque! Hope the little guy's alright! Pulled out the window by the shadow fog, yeesh. But yeah! I hope you guys really liked this! Got some pretty cool stuff planned for Chapter 12, so stick tight. Can't wait to see your feedback!**

**-Fictions**


	12. Chapter 12

Summary: Spencer purchases an old-fashioned mirror. What will happen when Sam discovers that the mirror is more than it seems?

Disclaimer: Remember that knock-knock joke from the last chapter? Yeah, I owned that, but I don't own iCarly D=

iWent Through the Glass: Chapter 12

The darkness of the stable was overwhelming. It pretty much summed up my mood perfectly—no light, cold, hopeless. I couldn't help but close my eyes, letting out a huge sigh.

This couldn't be happening. Things _couldn't_ have gotten this bad.

At this rate, our negative emotions would eat away at us in no time while we were stuck here. We would rot within days in this nightmare world.

We'd never make it out. We'd never see Carly or Spencer again. Tara, Alex, and Jacque were doomed because we couldn't stop fighting—_we_ were doomed because we…_I _couldn't stop pushing. If only I could've taken that step…

It didn't matter now. We were past that. None of us would be talking; we both expressed how we felt about each other deep down back in the castle. Our last exchange we'd ever have and it was fighting. Perfect.

I realized then just how far I must've come if I wasn't happy with that fact.

It figures that I'd become soft at a time like this. Pulling my knees into my chest, I scoffed—rather, unintentionally sniffed and lowered my head to my kneecaps, curling up into a tight ball that I could hide in. Though I didn't even realize I _was_ hiding. The movement was just instinctive.

At first, I thought there might be a leak in the ceiling, causing rain to drip on me. But there would've been no way for the water to get to my hidden, protected face. I was crying—unintentionally and uncontrollably. Not hard, only lightly, but still, just like when we were fighting, I couldn't stop myself.

"Sam?" his voice questions softly in the dark, giving me the first sign that he's still there with me.

I wanted to answer back, but something prevented me from it—stole my breath.

I heard him move closer to me, his feet shuffling on the ground, and then a rustling sound of the hay as he plopped down next to me. He releases a deep sigh like I had, only his sounds more regretful. "I'm sorry."

My head shoots up. Freddie's never apologized to _me_ before.

"I said some really mean things, and I shouldn't have."

I shrugged, scoffing. "S'not like you lied or anything. Everything you said…I really do that stuff."

"Yeah," Freddie confirms, stretching the word. "But you're not embarrassing. Not at all."

Again I scoff, rolling my eyes in disbelief.

"I mean that. And," he pauses. "I'm really proud to have you as my friend." There's not one unconfident note in his tone.

I try to swallow whatever it is that keeps me from responding, my eyebrows furrowing with the effort. It doesn't work, but I try my hardest to push through the obstacle. "So am I," I managed to just whisper out. I really hope he heard me…

His hand suddenly lands on my shoulder.

At that moment, a glittering light resonates from the rear of the stable.

Finally illuminated, Freddie and I are able to see each other. And I bite my cheeks to stifle the blush that threatens to rise upon seeing how close we actually are.

Freddie doesn't react. But he gets up to see what the source of the glowing is.

Feeling awkward, sitting on the floor alone, I join him in front of the mirror.

"The mirror of truth…" I mumble as I approach. Reflected back at us is the image of a girl with a heart-shaped face, brown hair, and green eyes. "Tara," I automatically say quietly. There's a boy at her side—someone I've never seen before. He's got these strangely piercing brown eyes, which eerily remind me of Freddie's. But I now know who the boy reflected in front of Freddie is. "And that must be Jonathan."

Freddie glances at me quickly, as if wondering what's going on, but as he turns back, the image being shown in the mirror changes.

The eyes Freddie is looking into are now cerulean blue, and are slightly almond-shaped. The face is a bit round and his hair is blonde, and he stands just a little taller than the nub himself. "Alex," I mutter. Looking in front of me, I see a beautiful raven-haired girl, clasping his hand. "And Emily," I nod, knowingly.

The image changed.

"Jacque," I said instantly in sadness as his form showed on the glass, his hand linked with the hand of a platinum blonde, big-blue-eyed girl.

"And that must be the person the monster posed as to lure him here," Freddie nods.

"The one he loved," I softly murmur, uncharacteristically.

Again, the image changes. "Hey, isn't that—?" Freddie begins.

I finish the sentence for him. "My mom and dad." My voice is deep, weighed down by melancholy. "What's the mirror trying to—"

But mid-question, the mirror shimmered, changing once more.

"—Do?" I finished softly. Eyes locked in worry, I moved away from the reflection cast by the glass.

The reflection of Freddie and I, standing side-by-side, linked together by our joined hands.

We hadn't been holding hands in reality, so I don't know why I thought that moving away would alter the reflection when it wasn't our outward reflection to _begin _with. Needless to say, it didn't.

But Freddie turns to me. "You see?" he asks. "_This _is the mirror of truth, and it's showing us how things are supposed to be." He pauses, holding his hand to the mirror but staring straight at me. "This is what's real."

My face softens into a frown. I gulp. I'm scared to take that step. But it's hurting me, staying here on top of this cliff. There's no turning back, so I have to move—I have to jump to either fly or fall.

Just then, the mirror shines, reflecting a dark stone room. After a cautious look at one another, we step through the newly formed portal.

Looks like I was going to have to stand on that ledge a little while longer.

--

**AN: Yes, very short, but this just seemed like where it had to end for this one. Not much of a page-scroller (and by that, I mean by length) but much was accomplished here, as you see. I'm very happy with how Chapter 12 has come out, and I hope you all are, too! Once again, thank you for the amazing feedback! And thanks to a select few who have been sticking with me the whole way and reviewing—reviewing every chapter, there's FireofNature, and I wanna thank you so much for putting in the effort each time! Haha, and gracing the reviews with character dialogue, as well. And also reviewing just about every chapter and being pretty perceptive on inner turmoil of the characters, rockyshadow! I swear that your analysis of Chapter 10 was just spot-on and amazing! And those who review and have also stuck with me for about the entire story—AMNProductions, Princess-Charly, Don't-Stop-Believin', EyesxWidexShut, Meranie-chan (who I know is still probably reading this fic, hahaha,) queenpengy, sweetiepie1019, purple people eater 69, A Silver Cloud's Lullaby, Randomfangirl, xXAFanatic09Xxand everyone else out there! Thank you all for being so supportive and kind! ^^**

**-Fictions**


	13. Chapter 13

Summary: Spencer purchases an old-fashioned mirror. What will happen when Sam discovers that the mirror is more than it seems?

Disclaimer: This story is the terror that flaps in the night. This story is the sugar in your Coca-Cola Lite—OH WAIT! …That's Darkwing Duck. Okay…uh, disregard….I…uh…don't own anything here. God, I fail so hard.

iWent Through the Glass: Chapter 13

Entering the room, we heard the sounds of slime rolling over stone—the sound of slithering; of sloshing, and then we saw it.

The looming, hulking, unending mass of giant black tentacle vines, their thorns shining menacingly in the red glow of the chamber. A horrible smell hung off of the creature—like powder and dirt, perfume and mold. It was absolutely disgusting and unstandable. And yes, I know that's not a word, but at this point, I really couldn't care less.

The whispered voice that I had heard coming from the mirror long ago now called both of our names. "Freddie/Sam!" it seemed to say at the same time.

Black fog sailed the top of the room, as if masking it to hide the possibility that there was no ceiling from us. And as my hand flew to my face to block out the horrid stench and also prevent myself from throwing up, an echoed laugh came from the creature.

"Hey," Freddie began, his eyes trained on a spot on the floor. "Is that the sword you were talking about?"

I looked down to his feet. It was, indeed, the sword that Alex had given me. But why would it be here? Something had to be— "Freddie! Wait, don't touch--!"

But it was too late. The stupid nub had already grabbed it! And like that, _I_ was grabbed, by my legs, by some tentacles that must've been wrapping around me while my attention was on Freddie. Ugh! Stupid, stupid, stupid!

"I hate you sooooo muuuuuuch!!!" I yelled as I was swung about in the air, not really sure to whom I was directing the comment. And finally, I crashed onto the floor, tentacles surrounding me, covering me, the horrible smell filling my nostrils.

And it all went black.

Well, no. Actually, I found that when I opened my eyes, it was all _white_. It was like I was in a blank room—no, not a room, a void. I was sitting with my knees held to my chest. And just when I thought I was alone, someone bounded out through the emptiness.

It was Carly. "There you are, Sam!" she called to me, her voice cheery and carefree.

"Carly?" I asked in confusion, my eyebrows furrowing as I stood up. "What are you doing here?"

Her face altered with puzzled amusement as she laughed uncertainly. "Visiting you? This _is_ your house, isn't it?"

No, this is a white vo--…but looking around, I discovered Carly was right. This _was_ my house. I wasn't in a blank, white area, I was in my room. And there was my bed, and my phone, and my piles of dirty clothes, and my posters, and my pictures of my mom and dad and I…And I was even wearing normal clothes! The clothes I had on before I entered the mirror. What the heck…? "Yeah," I blinked. "I guess it is."

Carly tilted her head, laughing again, maybe out of nervousness of my behavior now. But still, she went back to her happy attitude and continued with her business. "Freddie and I just got back from the movie so we figured we'd come see you," she beamed.

"What?" Okay, that part got my full attention. "You and the dork? At the movies? What gives, Carls?" I mumbled incoherently.

"You know," she nodded, looking mildly concerned now. "For our date?"

I feel my eyes snap open wide and my breath stop "Date?" I nearly shouted. "You can't go on a date with Freddie! You're always turning him down!" And then I mumbled in addition, more to myself than to her, "And what about the mirror…?"

Carly's back to looking concerned now. "We got you guys out of there days ago," she says lowly, like she's trying not to frighten me. "Sam, are you alright?"

My face became mangled with a slew of emotions, but all those emotions had the same root feeling—confusion. "But—"

I couldn't even ask. As soon as I'd begun to speak, Freddie knocked three quick times and walked into my room. "Hey Sam," he says, smiling at me. "Hey babe." His arm snakes around Carly's shoulders after giving her a deep kiss.

"Hello, my diamond," she responds, her voice ringed with elation.

Pain shoots through me at the sight—paralyzes me. And I only hope I have enough strength to hold back my gag reflex when I ask, "Diamond?" in question of the apparent nickname.

"Yeah," Carly smiles. "I thought it'd be the perfect nickname since he _is_ my 'diamond in the rough.' I never knew how great he was until I gave him a chance."

"_Sam!_" I suddenly hear Freddie calling my name. But it's distant—far away. Surely not coming from the Freddie in this room…

"In fact, I have you to thank for that," Carly continues, now sounding emotionless, robotic. Her eyes are empty of light. They look blank and dead, and her face is neutral. "If you hadn't rejected Freddie—"

Freddie interrupts her, laughing. "We're very happy together. Thank you for setting me on the right path, Sam." He keeps his smile about him and pulls her closer, tighter. Her blank expression, though, remains unchanging. Something's fishy here.

"Freddie?" I ask, tilting my head to the side. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

He laughs. "Actually, I was just about to ask you the same thing."

And so, we walk aside.

"Alright, look, Freddie," I start the conversation in a surprisingly civil manner by using his actual name. "I'm…" I pause. "—Happy for you and Carly, but—"

He scoffs in interruption "No you're not."

My eyebrows drop into a glare. Where does the dork get the nerve to cut me off? But this is serious, so I just put my hand out, letting go of a deep breath and continue. "But I don't—"

"Oh, cut the trash, Puckett," he interrupts again. "I know you're not happy, and I know you've been jealous this entire time. You told me in the mirror world, remember?" he smirks.

My glare returns, but I quickly shove it aside. For some reason I feel I'm being lured into a trap. "Yeah, about that. How did we get out of that place again?"

Freddie grins triumphantly, sticking his hands in his pockets. "I lied. And you believed me. You wanted so badly to believe that I was in love with you, that you gave into hope, and completely threw away your logic."

The glare's impossible to get rid of now, and I feel my teeth clench. I can't unclench them as I talk, so they appear bared in anger. "What are you talking about?"

"Logic," he rolls his eyes and speaks matter-of-factly. "You know, that thing that you barely had in the first place?"

I growl, stepping closer, readying my fist to hit his face. I don't _want_ to punch him but…erg! Why is he doing this?

Freddie laughs. "And you actually thought that someone would love you. _You_—the aggressive, offensive, abusive, disgusting excuse for a girl that you are."

My feet stop working. My body's heavier than ever and my eyes are fixed on a spot that's not Freddie. I'm using every last bit of energy I have to keep standing, to keep myself functioning and remain in control.

"My apology was fake, Sam," he shakes his head, pacing in front of me. "You _are_ embarrassing. My _mother _is less embarrassing than you. It's a challenge to just hang _out_ with you everyday."

I hear a groan as I hit the ground. "_No! Sam! I'm coming! Don't believe whatever it's—_" Freddie's other voice is cut off, gurgling with static.

"Stop," I mumble, whimpering slightly. I'm not angry anymore—I'm in _pain_. Because what he's saying is true. Or at least, it's what I've been feeling for God knows how long.

"And now you _cry_ while someone tries to tell you the truth?" he asks, scoffing in disgust.

I was…crying? And then I felt the warm wet rolling down my face. I _was_ crying.

He shakes his head from above me. "No wonder Pete broke up with you."

My hands fly up to cover my head as if I were shielding myself from a bomb's blast. "I know, okay?! I _know_!" I shout, my eyes pressed tightly shut. "So stop it!" I cry desperately.

"Obviously it hasn't sunk in, though!" he yells, angrily now. "Because you just keep trying. Give _up_, Sam! Give u—hhhh!"

Freddie's body joins me at the floor. As I look over it, I see that it's got a puncture wound through the chest. My gaze rises.

Freddie—the actual Freddie with my sword in-hand—stands over the body of the fake one, looking nothing but intense. The scene of my room vanishes around me. All that remained was the pile of tentacles, now detached from the rest of the creature, which I had been caught in.

A new wave of security and warmth—of reassurance—rushed over me as Freddie reached his hand out to mine. Would the illusion have come true had I not taken Freddie's hand at that moment? Maybe, maybe not. But as selfish as it sounds, I wasn't going to give it the chance—I wasn't going to take that risk. And as he helped me out of the heap of stinking tentacles, a voice sounded throughout my mind.

"_Love will always prevail._"

It wasn't Alex' voice.

And it wasn't my father's voice.

It was my own.

--

**AN: At long last, here is Chapter 13! I am so sorry it's taken such a long time, you guys. Even though I **_**am**_** on vacation right now, celebrating both Passover and Easter can be a bit of a problem. I was incredibly busy over the last…stretch of time XD No, seriously, though, I've been busy like crazy. But I'm glad to finally have this out! Hope you liked it! I'll be honest with you, this story isn't flowing as easily for me as iFight For the Light, and, off-topically, I really miss iFight For the Light's writing process—the way I would be on a journey just writing the story. But, evs, this one's a whole different ball game; just something I gotta get used to =) Anyway, I found another Seddie song called "We" by Joy Williams! Doesn't really go into this story, but just wanted to share that. Give it a listen! And another one: "Dig" by Incubus! That's a really great one, too! So, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and hopefully the next one will be out quicker, but I'm not making any promises. =(**

**-Fictions**

**P.S. Is it weird that I was actually a little disappointed with iMake Sam Girlier? …I don't know, something just felt off about it to me.**


	14. Chapter 14

Summary: Spencer purchases an old-fashioned mirror. What will happen when Sam discovers that the mirror is more than it seems?

Disclaimer: You should really know by now, being that we're in our 14th chapter, that I don't own iCarly. Dan Schneider does, silly person.

iWent Through the Glass: Chapter 14

"Aww, does little Sammy need help standing?" whispered the creature directly into my ear, as if its mouth were only a few inches from my head.

I whirled around, my fists flying. I was angry now. But I hit nothing.

"Probably," cooed the voice again. "Because she seems to need help in every _other_ aspect of her life."

Growling, my angry eyes flashed to the fog-covered ceiling, just as thunder and lightning crashed inside the room. "Freddie," I ground out, beginning my command. "Hand me the sword."

"Sam?" he asks, his voice almost trembling. I don't need to look at him to know that his eyes are wide. "What are you planning to do?"

With another growl, I turn to him and shout, "Just give me the damn sword!" And then I snatch it from his hands, leaving him no time to react. Instantly, I begin running at where the mass of tentacles seemed particularly bunched together. Its face couldn't be far behind. I roared while slashing furiously. I had _had it_ with this thing.

"Be careful, Sam," the creature cautioned. "You wouldn't want to find yourself in trouble, would you? Especially without Freddie there to save you."

Letting go of a cry of rage, I increased the power of my lunges, speaking between jabs. "I—don't—need—any—body's—_help_!" I was right! I knew I was right! And yet this thing was making me out to be some sort of mouse—not even, something pitiful, that depends on others to survive. Sure help is _nice_, but I very _rarely_ needed it.

But I froze in my spot and my eyes widened while I let the creature's words float through my mind a second time.

"_Especially without Freddie to save you."_

I spun around as quick as I could, and ran back what seemed like an impossible distance from where our battle had begun.

"Sam!" Freddie cried in urgency, coughing and gasping for air. He was being strangled by one of the tentacles.

I tried calling out to him, but again my breath caught. It only let me say his name—"Freddie"—in a desperate, worried, quiet tone. But once again I was stuck on that ledge.

The creature chuckled in its scratchy voice. "Do you know what _he's_ seeing now, Samantha?"

But I couldn't move or answer. I had to get him out! He was dying, and I couldn't move! What was _wrong_ with me?!

"He's seeing _you_."

My eyes opened impossibly wider.

"_You_ are his greatest fear. He never knows what you'll do. You're always a million steps ahead of him, but in-turn, he's always a million behind _you._ And you never wait for him to catch up." The voice laughed again. "Oh, poor, stupid nerd, you'd say. And you'd push him further away."

"No," I murmured, still stuck. "That's not true. Freddie loves me."

"He loves you _because _he fears you," the monster corrected. "And because he fears you, it stops him from loving you. It's a vicious cycle. One that can never break."

"He knows I'm only kidding when I do the things I do!"

"Are you?" the creature questioned in a malicious tone.

"Yes!" I yell. "Freddie's one of my best friends! No matter how much we fight, I could never hate him!"

"And are you _certain_ he feels the same way?" I could almost hear the disgusting thing smirk.

"It doesn't _matter_ if he does or if he doesn't. I'll break that cycle! Because I love him, too!" And suddenly, I was able to move again. I was flying off that cliff. And it was almost as if actual wings carried me through the room and up to where Freddie was being held. With one powerful slash, I cut him free, the blade so hot, it cauterized the beast's severed tentacles as soon as they were cut.

We were at the top now. We could see its face. Its eyes glowed a horrible green, like the muck in the sea of corpses, and blood dripped from its eyes like tears. Its mouth was _full_ of razor sharp teeth, but I knew what we had to do.

"Freddie!" I shouted from our perch on the mounded vines. "Grab onto the sword!"

"What?!" he asked, as if I were crazy. We were either about to win or die and the dork still questioned my sanity.

"Just grab it, you nub!" I screamed, no longer tolerating Freddie's uncertainty.

As his hands joined mine on the handle of the sword, it glowed, bright and golden. It was beautiful—it was magic.

"Run with me!!" And then we took off, and he jumped at the same time as I did, as if we were running in perfect synchronization. The blade hit the monster _right _between the eyes and sliced through its jelly-like skull.

It shrieked horribly, and began to shake. Small explosions of black smoke lined its body, and with one more piercing cry, we were back on the ground. Bright blue orbs flew from the wreckage, and one gold orb, seemingly searching out people they belonged to. I knew that those had to be the memories the creature had stolen, and Alex' magic. It was over…it was all done.

Breathing out a heavy sigh, I turned to Freddie, a triumphant smirk on my face.

He had already been grinning at me.

For some reason, I couldn't help but laugh. I still felt like I was flying inside. The feeling…it was amazing! Better than anything I'd ever felt before. And you're not going to believe me, but it was even better than ham! Blasphemy? Perhaps. But, reality? Definitely.

"So," Freddie begins, patting his sides. "Did you mean it?"

I knew what he was referring to right off the bat. "You dweeb!" I yelled, glaring and smacked him in the arm. But then I smiled. "'Course I meant it!"

And then, laughing, and only rubbing his arm for a half-second, he embraced me, in a hug that I never, ever wanted to end.

Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and nestled my face into his shoulder. We had won. "But you know," I said, looking up. "You never actually said it first."

Freddie flashed me a cheeky grin, paired with a roll of his eyes. He placed one hand on my back and the other at the back of my head, holding me in place, a bit possessively, but lovingly all the same. "I love you, Sam Puckett," he whispered into my ear.

A smile overtook my features, and again my eyes slid shut. We were safe.

"_Well done, Sammy,_" my father said in his deep and echoing voice in my mind. "_Well done, my darling baby girl._"

The room was no longer covered in a red glow. Instead, the area shined in normal white light. And the black fog cleared away, much like the heavy black clouds of a storm, to reveal a pure blue sky. Yeah, it was daytime again. Weird, right?

Unfortunately, we had to break apart—there was still work that needed to be done. Reluctantly, I lifted my head, and stepped away from Freddie, already on the move back to the portal. "Come on, Fredweird," I called without looking back. "We've got people to save."

Instantly he was at my side. "People to save?" he repeated in question, raising a curious eyebrow.

"Yeah, you know, allies," I said with a roll of my eyes. "Like Jacque. Remember him? The guy we got pulled out of a window and probably to his death?"

A guilty look takes over Freddie's features. And he gulps as we step through the portal. But when we come out the other side, we're not in the stable. We're in the bright sunlight of the area right outside the castle. In fact, it's so impossibly bright that it makes me wince, and takes me a while to get used to it.

"Oh, Sam, I wouldn't say that," sounds a grinning familiar voice. "I think Jacque's perfectly alright. Aren't you, Jacque?"

My vision finally adapts and I see that standing before us are two boys and a girl; One boy is tall with blonde hair and almond-shaped eyes, the other was shorter and slightly-pudgy with black hair, and finally, the girl had shining wide, emerald green eyes, brown hair and a heart-shaped face.

"I'm fine, ma'am," Jacque nodded. "Gave me a bit of a scare there, but I'm so happy to see how well things have turned out!"

Instinctively, I look to Freddie. He turns and grins at me, putting an arm around my shoulders.

Rolling my eyes, I shove his arm away. "You think I'm one of those fluffy, 'cuddle all the time,' girls, Fredweeb?" I ask coldly.

He puts on a half-smile and shakes his head. "No, I _know_ you're not. You've never been. But I wouldn't have you any other way."

An uncontrollable smile stretches on my face.

He continues, much to my surprise. "As long as you _are_ a 'cuddle _some_ of the time' girl."

I huff out an exasperated breath while still smiling and shove the dork harshly. Freddie just laughs, though. Note to self: hit harder.

Tara claps her hands together. "Oh, miss, this is such fantastic news! You have freed us! We may finally go home." For the first time since I got here, Tara wears a smile—and it's got to be one of the widest, most-contagious ones I've ever seen. Much like Carly's back home.

But then, I remember there's a complication with that plan. "Uh, about that," I begin hesitantly. I don't want to have to take that smile away from all of them, but they have to know. "I don't know if Jacque here told ya—maybe he hit his head after being pulled out of that window—but the mirror's kind of…broken."

Alex laughs. "Yes, he did tell us. Sam, is that the only way you think someone with magic like me can come up with to get us out of here?" he asks with a shake of his head. "I'm offended."

Freddie's head tilts. "You've got another way for us to get home?"

An excited grin takes over Alex' face. "Follow me," he says just as he turns and begins to walk towards the entrance of the castle, Jacque in toe.

"The musicians are waiting in the entry hall, mi—" But Tara stops herself, with a genuine smile. "Sam," she nods to me, and then looks to the dork. "And Fredweeb."

I can't resist cracking up when Tara turned to follow after the two boys, and it only got worse when I saw Freddie's shocked and offended face. Of course Tara wouldn't have known his real name, but I kind of liked it better this way. "You heard the girl, Fredweeb," I said still in laughter and walked off after our friends.

"It's _Freddie_!" he shouts back before stomping off to tag along.

--

**AN: Sorry this one is so-so-so-so-so-so-so late, you guys D= Finals are here (Dun, dun, duuuun.) So it's hard to find time to write, really, but I **_**will**_** stick this story out, I promise you! Plus, we only have two chapters left, including the epilogue =) On that note, I really hope you guys liked this chapter and the rest of the chapters that will follow after, and have gone before it. I'd like to thank you **_**all,**_** again for reading, and reviewing. It really does keep me going on this stuff—seeing that people enjoy what I write and all. So thank you! And until next time—**

**-Fictions**


	15. Chapter 15

Summary: Spencer purchases an old-fashioned mirror. What will happen when Sam discovers that the mirror is more than it seems?

Disclaimer: Dan Schneider owns iCarly, I'm just using the fandom for now to make joy. Just like I use my sneakers to make joy for my feet. …Wait, that makes no sense. But Sketchers technically owns them. And the cheese that got on them from the movie theatres today was owned by some annoying prior visitor of the movies! What's the point you may ask? Well, just like in "Whose Line Is It Anyway?" the points don't matter.

iWent Through the Glass: Chapter 15

The atmosphere inside the castle was brighter and warmer than it had ever been. So warm, in fact, that I took off my makeshift jacket and tied it around my waist.

When we entered the foyer, we were greeted by dozens of unknown faces. No longer were Jonah, Wesley, or Germy among the players in the orchestra. There were only the gazes of strangers, chanting and cheering and praising both Freddie and I for breaking the spell, killing the monster, and saving their lives.

The faces were so varied—different colors, different structures, and from different time periods.

I was shocked by the reaction—no one had really ever praised me like that. I felt my cheeks burn red, my eyes shifting, as I turned nervously, unintentionally, and confusedly back and forth.

Freddie turned to me, his amused half-smile dancing on his lips. He was definitely enjoying this—the gratitude, the glory, and, of course, my reaction.

I glared. That nub, I should sock him in the jaw. This wasn't _funny_, it was just unfamiliar to me.

The dork, making sure to keep his smile about him, just rolled his eyes and swiftly slung an arm over my shoulders.

This only made the crowd cheer even louder.

My glare spread, eyebrows locked in what seemed to be a permanent angry position, and Freddie looked to me nervously. _He_ knew what was coming. "Alright knock it off!" I shouted.

The enormous group of people silenced, but then broke into tiny fits of giggles, as if I were—I don't know—_cute_ or something. Uch! It was like being stuck in a television on some show with stupid canned laughter!

I glanced at Freddie, the glare still pasted on my face.

He gulped, removing his arm from my shoulders and plugging his fingers in his ears, squeezing his eyes shut tight.

"Okay, I know we just saved your lives," I yelled over the laughter. "But if you don't start taking me seriously, I have no problem beating the heck out of each and every one of you 'til you do!"

Immediate silence.

Freddie unplugged his ears and opened his eyes again as I nodded and politely said, "Thanks."

Alex seemed to stand above the crowd, his arms crossed and a smile on his face, a chuckle just breaking his lips. "Make room, everyone," he ordered calmly. "You two," the blonde said, pointing a finger at me and the dweeb. "Come to the center. Get ready for "Farandole"."

"Get ready for _what_?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow. "Guzuntight?"

A cocky smile suddenly appears on the dork's face. "It's a composition," he grins.

I roll my eyes. Typical—any chance for him to prove me an idiot and he jumps at it.

"A _musical _composition," he continues to clarify.

I get up in his face. "_No_," my voice drips with sarcasm. "And here I thought I'd get a chance to do some writing. Darn, my dream of being an author has been put off again."

His smile leaves him, his eyes traveling to the ceiling, doing a complete 360 at me. But that's not something I care about. We may both admittedly be in love, but something tells me that the sniping at each other is never going to stop. But I would never want it to.

The crowd clears from around us and the musicians begin to play.

"But wait!" Freddie shouts over the instruments that are quickly climbing in volume. "Was Bizet even _around _when you came through the mirror?"

Alex cups his hands over his mouth in a practiced manner and yells back, "No!" shaking his head. "But when you've been stuck in this dimension as long as I have, one tends to learn of many things!"

I decide to interrupt the boring and intellectual discussion—I know all this stuff already anyway. "Not really getting the feeling of victory, here!" I call. It's true that we may just be at the first section of the song, but so far the melody seems very wartime-ish. You can almost picture soldiers marching to battle with the music. Plus, I'm still not exactly grasping the point of all this. Why are we listening to music? We should be trying to figure out how to get home.

Alex smiles and shouts back, "Just wait!"

The melody continues, just in lighter instruments. I sigh exasperatedly as I picture planes flying by in black and white and dropping bombs behind my eyes. Can we say pointless waste of valuable time?

Suddenly, the music seems to stop. "That's it?" I begin to ask, but at that moment, more musicians who had been hidden from view before stand and begin to play on light clarinets. One of them is female, but there were no female musicians in the orchestra before we were able to see their true faces. Was one of them forced to believe she was a dude? Talk about crazy.

This new rhythm was happy, and the sound itself almost danced. That's when I noticed the glowing orchestra members and the picture frames shaking on the walls, the glasses and silverware in one of the nearby dining halls trembling and creating the ringing sound of tiny bells. As a leaping quality entered the music, the shaking picture frames fell from the wall and crashed to the floor, along with some of the torches that lit the hallways.

The glasses on the table shattered and my eyes darted around looking for the next thing that would break. "What's going on?" I yelled in confusion.

"The only way to get everyone back to their own dimensions," Alex replied. "Is to destroy this one that we're in now!"

"What?" Freddie bellowed back in horror.

As the music got louder, the light bulbs that took the place of candles on the grand chandelier shattered, sending glass raining down on us.

With wide eyes, both Freddie and I ran to different sides of the room. "I had no idea that getting us home involved you trying to _kill_ us!" I roared as my temper flared up again.

The original wartime-like melody returned again, only faster this time, and the dork and I raced to brace ourselves on anything we could. I gripped a wall for support, and Freddie held onto the arms of a chair.

The light instruments returned. I slouched with a sigh of relief on the wall, and Freddie took a seat in the chair he'd been holding onto.

But then an altered version of the original melody returned, as if warning us that something big were coming. And as the music alternated between the changed version of the first piece and the light instruments, the walls and floor shook beneath and around us.

The final time the lighter tune played, it was played faster and sounded much more chaotic.

Freddie shrieked in surprise as the chair he was sitting on collapsed underneath him, and I, too, joined in the shrieking when, just about in the same second, the wall I was leaning on trembled furiously before beginning to crumble.

The nerd got to his feet and ran back to the center of the floor just as I did from the opposite side of the room. We huddled as close as we could, our eyes locked on the ceiling and chandelier above us as if that would save us from being crushed or from whatever _else _could possibly be coming.

The beat gets faster and faster—louder; more destructive. And as the fortress shakes more intensely, stone crumbles away from the walls, leaving impossible gaps in the structure giving us a charming view of the sunny day outside. Very appropriate considering what might be approaching death. Note the sarcasm.

As the old original melody returns, I notice that it now sounds in a triumphant tone. 'We won the war!' it seems to convey. But countering that is the continued soundtrack of destruction, coupled with the noise of a chain snapping.

Freddie and I quickly and instinctively run across the room, his grip on my hand tightening as we heard the crash of the chandelier that once hung above our heads.

I turned to Alex. "Are you crazy?!"

"Don't worry!" he assures us. "Nothing can harm you now."

"Yeah, I think that chandelier would've begged to differ," retorts Freddie with a sharp glare to rival my own and a nod of his head.

It's now that I look around at the crowd. Everyone there is acting like nothing strange or dangerous is happening. They're all smiling and they're all _stationary_—like they _know_ everything will be okay, because they've wanted it for so long. They must be insane!

The music picks up to an incredible speed, symbols joining in now. And as those symbols crash, tables topple, walls break down, part of the ceiling collapses, and so on and so forth. But—

"Hmm, this isn't good!" Alex calls over the instruments.

"_What's_ not good?" inquires Freddie nervously. And I can't tell if his voice is just raised to sound over the orchestra or if it's just raised in hysterics. My bet would be a little bit of both.

"At this rate, the song will be done and the magic will be used up before the dimension is destroyed!" the wizard shouts. "We'll all be stuck here!"

_Now_ the faces around me look anxious. Shaking my head, I suggest, "Tell them to play louder, then!"

Alex just shook his head right back. "It's no good! There's no louder than this!"

"Oh great!" I throw my hands into the air. "So, we're just doomed then!"

"No we're not," says the voice next to me, calmly. There's a tug on my wrist and suddenly, I'm brought to face Freddie. But he's got me incredibly close. I mean, we haven't been this close since—"I have an idea."

And he's kissing me. Freddie Benson just _pulled_ me into a kiss. Fredward, Fredweird, Fredwin, Fredison, Fredwina, Fredwardo, Frediot, Fredwad, Fredweeb, the dork, the nub, the dweeb, the doof, and a million other nicknames just _kissed me_ without notice. And I don't mind one bit.

The music, though it was just incredibly loud, seems to dissipate into nothing as I reciprocate wholeheartedly. It's like…nothing else exists except for me and him. And though I don't see it, it's like I can feel myself tearing down those walls—tearing down that world.

When I open my eyes, we're standing in space. Or it looks to be that way. And the only ones that are left are he and I and Alex.

"Welcome back, you two," grins the elder of us.

It takes us a while to regain composure, and when we do, Freddie's the first to speak—well, _try_ to. "Where's--?" he begins before being cut off by Alex.

"Everyone else?" he asks. "They all made it back to their universes already. Jacque and Tara wished you farewell." But he pauses, and I know there's something he's not telling us. "And good luck."

Freddie laughs, assuming it's probably a joke about our new (what we know will be) rocky relationship. "Good luck for what?"

"In not forgetting."

We're frozen, and our faces sink. I really doubt either of us was expecting an answer like that. "What do you mean…?" I ask silently.

"There's a chance," Alex begins, looking away nervously. "That when you make it back to your own world, you will have forgotten about your entire journey."

Freddie turns to me, staring at me with pained eyes as if pleading to me wordlessly. "We would forget about--?" But he doesn't even need to finish asking. I know what he's talking about. And I know that he already knows the answer to that.

For a moment, I can't talk. My words are hiding, just like I wish I could right now, so that the force that would possibly wipe our memories would not catch me. My head shakes, though I don't will it to move. "I don't wanna forget…" I say, though my voice trembles as if it's old and worn.

"I'm sorry," Alex apologizes, frowning, his words lined with genuine sincerity. "I pray that you do not." As a white vortex swirls and grows behind him, he looks into it and back to us. "I will cross my fingers on both of my hands for you 'til they turn blue. Farewell, Lady Sam and Freddie!" he calls, his voice growing distant as he fades from view. "And good luck!"

It's only now that I accept the title of Lady. Tears brim my eyes as I look up, worriedly. "Freddie," I mutter, but I don't know what else to say. I never, ever thought I would be looking into his eyes this way.

He pulls me close. "It'll be okay." I don't believe him. And I know he doesn't believe himself. But for this one time I try to trick my brain to believe the unbelievable.

Suddenly, I felt a tug at my back. With every passing millisecond, it grew stronger, as if it was trying to heave me from Freddie. When I turned around, I saw the same glowing white portal that had sucked Alex away from us. I grip tighter, but as if growing impatient with me, the pull grows immensely stronger. And my grip slips.

I'm horizontal in the airless air, flying away from him. "Freddie!" I shout with such pathetic desperation that I swore no matter what I would hit myself for it later.

I expect to go flying off without him. I know we'd end up in the same place, but for some reason going alone made it seem even more inevitable that we would forget about everything that's happened. But then he grabs my hands.

"Don't let go!" he calls to me with the same desperation.

"I won't!" I feel the tears fly away from my cheeks and through the portal. But that's not me. I'm not some crying girl in some sappy movie. I'm Sam Puckett. "You'd better not let your grip slip or I swear, whether I remember or not, I'll kill you!"

"I'm sure you will!" he shouts, almost laughing.

I pause. I'm _not_ that girl in that sappy movie, and I _am_ Sam Puckett. But I am scared. "Freddie, I don't wanna forget, "I say so lowly that I'm sure he doesn't hear me.

To my surprise, he yells back, "We won't!"

"You're such a bad liar!"

"You can't know that we'll forget!" He frowns. "And if you keep talking like that, you'll forget and _I'll_ be the only one who'll remember! Do you know how horrible that would be—to be stuck with all those memories and be the only one to have them?"

My frown deepens, and now I know I have no choice. "I'll remember!"

The white light becomes blinding and the pull becomes even stronger. I can only make out Freddie's shape across from mine as we keep our hands linked. "Sam!" he calls.

"What?!"

"I love you!"

That stupid dork. I _knew_ he didn't believe his own words. "I love you, too!" I shout through the light, pull, and tears, all of which are overwhelming at this point.

And then…

We crash.

"Freddie! Sam!" Carly! Spencer! Yeah, the gang's all here—we get it.

Before I can even say the names aloud we're swooped a good six feet off the ground by Spencer. I've never been so happy to see the two of them in my life because—and I grin at this—I remember. I remember everything I've been through. And even though Spencer's hug is crushing the air out of my lungs, I still manage to turn to Freddie and flash that same grin at him.

But something's wrong. He just shoots me this confused eyebrow raise.

My happiness fades. And I'm no longer in the mood to smile.

"Need…air…" Freddie gasps out.

"What?!" Spencer asks in a booming voice, even though we're only a few inches away from him.

I'm no longer all for playing around. "He says oxygen is becoming an issue!" I yell back, my voice angry and even. And more disappointed than I've ever been my entire life.

"Oh!" His mouth forms a little 'o' as the realization of our suffocating finally dawns on him.

"Where have you guys been?!" Carly shouts anxiously as Spencer sets us down from his bear hug.

"Oh…uh…I don't know."

My face blanked as I took in that horrible answer from him. My mind replayed his words from before: _"And if you keep talking like that, you'll forget and _I'll_ be the only one who'll remember! Do you know how horrible that would be—to be stuck with all those memories and be the only one to have them?"_ he'd said. Funny how that worked out, right? He'd forgotten, and _I _was the one who had to live with remembering a story that, now, might as well have never happened.

No, not funny. Just cruel. I guess all your finger-crossing was in vain, Alex. Sorry, buddy.

He had forgotten _everything_. And I was stuck with all the memories that would haunt me for—

"Maybe just the journey of our _lives_!" he finishes, grinning mischievously at me.

I glare.

It was a dirty, rotten trick. And I punched him in the arm for it.

Hard.

"Ow!" he shouts. "Ah! I think it might be broken!"

I rolled my eyes.

The nerd's so melodramatic, you know?

--

**AN: THE END! XD No, not really, but that was the last normal chapter of iWent Through the Glass! The next one will be the Epilogue, which is going to wrap everything up! I am SO sorry for the delay, you guys—after finals, my muse scampered away from me. But I stayed up extra late the last couple of nights catching her, because I've had this worked out in my mind for a while and just needed to get it out for you all to see! I've had a vague version of the end of the other dimension in my mind before I had the song, "Farandole" by Bizet in my memory bank, but once I heard the composition in my music class, something just clicked. **_**That**_** was the song, and finally the ending I had imagined up could come to fruition. So, yeah, I think I have to really thank my music class and music professor, Professor Palmquist, for a lot of inspiration for this story, since music became such a big driving force for it! Not only that, but I also spent the beginning of her class every Tuesday before stuff started waking up by writing out bits of chapters for iWent Through the Glass, hahaha. So, I hope you guys enjoyed, and stay tuned for the epilogue, folks, we've got lots of fun stuff planned!**

**-Fictions**


	16. Epilogue

Summary: Spencer purchases an old-fashioned mirror. What will happen when Sam discovers that the mirror is more than it seems?

Disclaimer: For the last time in this tale, I am not Dan Schneider, and therefore, I do not own iCarly. And now that that's out of the way, on with the show!

iWent Through the Glass: Epilogue

"Ahhhhhh!!!!"

Carly and I screamed, the camera in Freddie's hands shaking as we danced the Hokey Pokey in a rapid circle.

"We're stuck in the Hokey Pokeysphere!" Carly shouts.

"Oh no!" I reply with almost no enthusiasm.

"Quick, let's say our names to get out of it!" she suggests.

"Because that makes total sense!"

"I'm Carly!" she laughed as she stopped spinning, stumbling a bit.

"And _I'm_ Sam!" I say as I stumble my way into a superhero pose.

"And you're watching iCarly!"

"The only show that allows you to be—hmm—just about as awesome as we are."

Carly laughs again, giving me a shove. "She's a funny girl."

"So says my psychiatrist," I grin.

Carly smiles widely at me and then turns back to the camera, once again taking center-stage. "And now, I wanna give a congratulations to our new happy couple: Sam and Freddie!"

I hit a new button on my remote—it's a cricket sound effect, and I take to looking around the room innocently as my best friend glares at me.

"Gimme that!" Carly says playfully as she snatches the remote from me and jams her finger down on the applause button. A single balloon falls from the ceiling and hits me right on the head.

There's snickering coming from behind the camera. I picked up the balloon, my eyebrows knitting together in annoyance, and threw it at the dork as if it were a dodge ball.

He raised an eyebrow at me and smirked, the self-assured little dweeb, knowing that it wouldn't hurt. But I didn't intend it to. Instead, it landed on his head. And when he retrieved it from said spot, his hair stood up in all sorts of wrong directions from the static.

I grinned. _That_ had been my intention. But our viewers were probably sitting clueless at their computers right now, so Carly broke the ice with more talk about us.

"They've been going strong for a good week now, and we here at the studio _know_ they'll be together for a looooong time!" She practically sings the words.

"Yeah," I smirk, scoffing. "Knock on dork." I step out of the shot to bop Freddie a few times on the skull.

"Uch! Sam!" Ah. Music to my ears. To Carly's, too, apparently, 'cause she just giggled away at that instead of reprimanding me.

"And now on iCarly," she called cheerfully to the camera as she danced back into the shot, my remote still in her hand. "We're gonna take a page from one of our favorite shows—Legend Crackers—and try to disprove an old myth."

I grab my remote back and press the applause button.

She laughs embarrassedly. "We just…won't know right away whether it worked or not."

And with that, I gave a signal by sticking my tongue out to Freddie, and he inconspicuously switched to the B Cam.

A huge grin shone on my face as every bit of want in my body became evident in my tone. "We're gonna see if you really _do_ get seven years of bad luck when you smash a mirror to pieces."

"You remember the Mirror of Truth that Spencer bought?" Carly asks as we move out of the way to reveal it.

"Well, it's about to go bye-bye," I said slyly, still beaming devilishly at the camera as I smacked the glass on its surface none too gently.

Carly, on the other hand, smiles angelically as she continues my speech. "In a segment Sam, Freddie, and Spencer are famous for, called—"

Freddie jumps into the shot as Carly dramatically leaps out, and he and I shout, "iCrush It!"

Laughing from behind Freddie's tech cart, Carly takes control of the camera, once again switching back to the manual setting.

She keeps the camera on us as I moonwalk with Freddie—who just walks normally, because he's nubbish like that—behind our little protective wall. "Are you guys at home looking forward to this as much as I am?" I ask our viewers.

"Probably not," Freddie answers as he lets his head bounce from side-to-side.

I wave a hand. We weren't going to tell our viewers about our adventure. It'd be too complicated, and it's not like they'd believe us anyway. "Ready?" I ask Freddie excitedly.

He grips my hand and smiles. "Now I am."

I shake my head at him in disgust. "You're such a sap, Benson." But I don't shake him off. And together, we yell at the top of our lungs, "Spencer!"

With a battle cry, Carly's giant of a brother, Spencer runs to the room, bearing his trademark iCrush It sledgehammer. It smashes into the mirror with a wondrous shriek as if the glass were crying out in pain as it shattered. But I like to think of it as the monster, now tiny and insignificant, crying out as it's put to its gruesome demise.

Don't look at me like that—I know that idea sounds just as good to you as it does to me.

I grin, unable to take my eyes off the screen as we watch the playback in slow motion. Freddie leans over to give me a peck at the corner of my mouth, and I notice that that corner pulls up a little more after he does.

All together, most fulfilling iCarly _ever_.

--

_An hour later…_

Carly and me are in the studio talkin', chillin', a little bit of illin'—talking about food, boys, the usual. Hey, I'm not going to leave Freddie—nah-uh—but still, a girl can look, right?

From behind her laptop, my best friend giggles. "Wow."

"What?"

"You won't believe how many comments we already have just on you and Freddie alone."

"What?" I ask incredulously. "Let me see that." I slide over and take the laptop from her.

She moves her beanbag chair so that she can look over my shoulder. Pointing, Carly says, "KingNate says, 'Finally they're 2gether!'"

I roll my eyes. "Oh please."

"No," she shakes her head. "I like KingNate—he and I feel exactly the same."

With a smirk and a sigh, I turn back to the computer screen. "Luna_Moody says, "Seddie FTW! Yes!'" My eyebrow lifts in confusion and I blink. "'The heck is 'Seddie'?"

"You don't know?" Carly asks. "It's your and Freddie's names put together."

I pause, now glaring angrily. "Hardly any of my name is in that! Flarg that! They should call us Samdie."

Carly cocks a brow at me, silently questioning my name choice.

Realizing what I've said, I frown. "Okay, scrap that. Seddie's cool." As I read through more of the comments, a cringe formed on my face. "They're asking how we got together."

Carly shrugged. "They don't need to know the _truth_-truth." She smiled warmly. "You and Freddie know, obviously. And so do Spencer and I. That's all that matters."

I smirk. "Of course you guys had to know the truth." I'm being honest but there's playful sarcasm in my voice.

Her eyes go wide, as if this situation were much more serious than I was making it out to be. "Of _course_! Do you know how much I would've bugged you had I thought you were lying to me?"

Chuckling, my eyebrows furrowed. "How are you sure I _didn't_ lie to you?"

"Even _you_ couldn't come up with a story _that _outrageous, Sam Puckett."

"Hey, don't you underestimate mama," I point, grinning. "Hey, where's Freddie anyway?"

Once again, Carly's eyes are wide as saucers. "You don't know? He's your boyfriend!"

"So?" I ask while shrugging my shoulders lightly. "Doesn't mean I _stalk_ the kid."

"Yeah, but _still_," she giggles. "Don't you think--?"

Spencer suddenly falls from the ceiling with a yelp, with such force that he broke through Carly's words and, apparently, her train of thought. "He's on the roof of the building," he gasps.

I blink, shaking my head. "_Why_?"

Carly's overtaken by confusion. "And why were you on the ceiling?" she asks rapidly and loudly.

"I don't know," he practically coughs out.

"How could you not know why you were on the ceiling?!" Carly yells.

"No!" he cries, the word broken up into three syllables. "I was—" he pauses for a breath of air. "—Making a—" another gasp. "—Sculpture!" cough, cough, cough.

Carly shakes her head with utter puzzlement before slapping her hands on her thighs and asking, "Why on the ceiling?!"

"You can see it when you lay down!" Spencer says hurriedly, finally seeming to catch his breath. He tilts his head to the side, his eyebrows scrunching as he squints. "But right now it just looks like a very angry penguin."

I put my hands out to the side as I cocked a brow and asked, "But _why_?"

"That _spot_," Spencer answers immediately, his voice coated in familiar eccentricity. "The Randy Newman spot! It was like every time I walked into this room it was _staring at me_!" He shook his head dramatically. "Oh-ho-ho no, I had to cover it up." And then he turns to the ceiling and points, wagging his finger sharply between each word. "You're not staring at _me_, Randy Newman! Not anymore!!"

Sharing an awkward glance at Carly, I slowly backed out of the room. "Okay, I'm gonna go…talk to Fredweird now." Making sure I was out the studio door, I took off running.

"I'll get the door for you!" I hear Carly say before her hurried footsteps sounded in sync with mine.

After I got out the door I figured I'd skip the elevator ride to the roof and just climb the fire escapes, getting some exercise for myself. I know what you're thinking—me, exercise? And I'm thinking the same thing. But I already passed the elevator, so it didn't make sense to turn around now. Call me a changed girl.

As soon as I stepped foot onto the familiar fire escape—the life-changing fire escape, a dream-like quality set into the air, and it felt as if the wind rushed up to greet me. The papers that were left there from someone who had apparently been chilaxing there earlier all stayed in place, while the breeze rushed against me, running through my hair, almost taking me by the hand. I already knew where to go thanks to Spencer, but if I hadn't heard it from him, I would've found out now—the wind seemed to travel, begging me to follow, up the metal staircase to the roof of Bushwell Plaza.

I found the nub with his back turned towards the staircase. It looked like he was exercising or something, extending and raising his arms and then letting them fall back to his sides. I smirked. "Studying so you can fulfill that dream of joining Air Traffic Control?"

He jumped around, startled. "Oh, Sam," he said as his eyes shifted nervously.

"Who were you expecting—the Easter Bunny?"

"Well," he shrugged slowly. "No one." His eyes were diverted from mine. As I took a seat on the ledge, I let my head drift downward, trying to catch his gaze.

"So," I began, my voice lowering. "What are you doing up here, Fredster?"

Freddie shakes his head, pouting his lips in a 'not much' manner. "Just trying to relax," he said as he took a seat in the cheap lawn chair he'd dragged up with him.

I raised an eyebrow. "On the roof?"

"Well, that's not why I _normally_ come up here."

My other eyebrow rose now. "You normally come up here?"

He looks to the floor and then finally lets his eyes meet mine. They're half-closed with embarrassment. "Promise not to laugh?" he asks, looking more like the little nerd I'd met last year than he has in a long time. Strange how much has changed in just one year.

"At you?" I ask, taken aback, scoffing. "Fredweird, not laughing at _you_ is something I could never do."

Freddie glares. "Well if that dream of being an author doesn't work out for you, it looks like you've got a knack for poetry."

I glare in return, pointing a finger. "_That _was a joke." But, you know, I really haven't put much thought into what I want to be when I'm older. And I sure have enough to write about now for at least one book. That is, unless some stupid amateur writer publishes something exactly like it before I can. But I've been a lucky person so far, so who knows.

There's a pause, and Freddie shrugs before speaking again. "Well, I usually come up here when I'm really stressed and it's really windy so no one can hear me." My eyebrows furrows and I'm no longer sure I _want_ to hear about Freddie's secret hobby. "And then I just scream my lungs out. It's really good for relieving frustration."

"It's not windy."

"I know. Thus just the stretching."

Replaying his words again, I give a slight probably unnoticeable frown and tilt my head to the side. "What're you frustrated for, dweeb?"

He answers simply, "I haven't been up here since before we can back from…" He trails off, looking at me and nodding, knowing I know what he's talking about.

"Oh." My head straightens. "Yeah, I haven't wailed on anyone since I've gotten back either. That's pretty good for relieving tension, too."

Freddie blinks at me and then with a raised eyebrow, sharply states, "I wouldn't know."

My usual grin settles on my lips. "Of course you wouldn't, goodie-goodie."

It's silent for a while and we're just staring at each other. But it wasn't like any of the old silences we would share. There were no glares from me or him, and no frightened glances from him; there was no gulping or shifting—just neutrality.

I shrug and decide to break the comfortable quiet. "So let's go, Benson."

"Huh?" he asks, surprised at my statement.

My head nods, backing up my words. "Screaming war," I say matter-of-factly. "You and me, right now. Let's go."

He lifts a hand shaking his head. "No wind, remember? My mom or Carly or Spencer will hear and throw a fit."

"Oh, right," I frown, but suddenly the wind picks up. And I swear I see gold sparks in the air. _"A gift,"_ whispers my father's voice in my ear. And my smile returns with twice the intensity of before.

"Whoa!" Freddie shouts, jumping to his feet. "Where'd this draft _come_ from?"

I smile, and lowly, not really expecting or caring to be heard say, "Someone special." Then I stand up and walk to stand directly in front of Freddie, hands on my hips. "So we on, or what?"

I heard music on the wind—a beautiful guitar piece; a magical melody. And he smiles at me, obviously hearing it, too. "Hit me with your best shot, Puckett."

"Okay," I say, turning to stand at his side. "Wanna count us off?"

"Sure," he nods. "In five, four, three, two…"

And then we screamed into the night, all our feelings spilling out and painting the sky, the warm air cascading around us, hugging us and joining us together. Sure we didn't know what was going to happen next. But we knew we weren't alone.

And that was enough.

--

**AN: =) And that, my dear readers, is all. I really hope that you enjoyed this epilogue, along with the story in its entirety. I want to thank a few specific people, again! Luna Moody for leaving some of the most well thought-out and kindest reviews I've ever read, Nature9000 (who has converted to the account King Nate, fyi) for reviewing every chapter and leaving entertaining character dialogue on every one, and ANMProductions and Rockyshadow for their dedication in reviewing each and every chapter, pretty promptly after it's just come out, haha! **

**I apologize if I have not mentioned your name, but you are **_**all**_** very important! Without you guys and your reviews, I honestly would not have been motivated to finish the story =( Really, this one was tricky to get out, so thank you all from the bottom of my heart! And if any of you have any questions about the story, I'd be happy to answer them! **

**Oh, and that song playing at that point was the "Romance Antiguo" by Ben Tavera King ^^ It's hard to find, but it's a really nice piece that I feel, while obviously romantic, reminds me of the bonds of friendship, too. If any of you have seen The Princess Bride, perhaps it will remind you as it has me of the soft music that would always play when Inigo and Fezzik were speaking and just always seemed to convey what a strong, moving, and deep friendship the two shared. **

**Also, what I figure would play as they're screaming into the night, and as we fade out into the "credits," is the song "Slow Me Down" by Emmy Rossum. Check that one out, I **_**know**_** for a fact that one's on youtube, and it just works so well for this story.**

**Finally, my next fic is going to be a one-shot called iRegret It based on the song, "She's A Lady" by Forever The Sickest Kids, requested by LuDiamonds! Sorry I'm getting to this so late!**

**P.S. Expect a story playlist coming soon! And if any of you want to give a listen to the "Romance Antiguo," just say so in your review or a PM and I'll get back to you ASAP!**

**-Fictions**


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